


In My Very Bones

by frostbitebakery, sparkly_butthole



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And I mean way too seriously, Angst, Competence Kink, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark!Bucky, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No mpreg, Omega Bucky Barnes, Possessive Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve's Puppy Dog Faces, Super Soldier Arguments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-05 11:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16367003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostbitebakery/pseuds/frostbitebakery, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkly_butthole/pseuds/sparkly_butthole
Summary: There are certain unspoken rules when it comes to alpha and omega behavior. Once bonded, an alpha is driven to do whatever it takes to make his omega happy, as well as keep them safe. It can be a complicated dance at times, especially when it comes to ex-assassins who have been brainwashed for decades, but Steve is more than up to the challenge.But the Avengers’ lives are never easy, and when Bucky asks for something Steve’s not sure he can give, it puts his omega in unprecedented danger. The team has to figure out how to live with the changes Bucky has decided to undergo, all while keeping him safe and allowing him his own decisions.This is a story about hilariously incompetent mad scientists, unexpected STDs, and finding out way more than you wanted to know about Steve and Bucky’s sex life.Written for the Captain America Big Bang 2018!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I want to say thank you to the people who made this thing possible, because it's been a long and frustrating road to get it finished. My friends and co-creators are absolutely amazing people and deserve ALL the good things in this world. 
> 
> To my artist: I freaking love you, you are funny as hell and so, so very supportive even during some really dark times. This fic would not be finished without you. Your art is amazing and I'm so lucky you chose my fic. <3333
> 
> To my beta readers, [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile) and [Arke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arke/profile), you guys are the best damn alpha and beta readers out there. (All hail the glow cloud!)
> 
> And to cobaltmoony, your support on every single thing I write has meant the world to me. Thank you for being my friend.
> 
>  

 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/165122304@N07/45178131231/in/dateposted-public/)

 

 

 _I’ve got to be the most unlucky sonofabitch alive_ , Bucky thinks as he falls to his knees in the middle of the battlefield - or, specifically, the streets of Los Angeles. There’s no way his heat’s should come this early. They’ve timed it down to the minute, or at least it’s always worked that way before. Fuck.

 

It’s not in full swing yet; he has another couple hours before that happens, which is just enough time to finish what he started and get back to the quinjet… but after that, he’s not sure. Without his bonded alpha, shit will go sideways. He’ll be in a lot of pain, too fucking desperate to think straight…

 

No. No, he can’t think about that now. Steve’s here, or at least he’s nearby, so they’ll figure this out. There’s no reason to panic yet.

 

Bucky forces himself to his feet, staggering as his metal fist collides with the face of the merc who’s stupidly rushing the Winter Soldier like he could possibly win in a one-on-one fight. Even half out of his mind with lust, Bucky’s got this covered. Unfortunately, there are about forty more of them on the field, with only Nat and Clint providing aid. He’s gotta get out of here, and fast.

 

“Code Blue,” he stutters into his comm, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Need an extraction ASAP.”

 

Steve’s voice immediately pops in over the link. “Are you alright?” he asks, fear undoubtedly apparent to everyone on the line.

 

“‘M fine. For now.”

 

“Extraction imminent,” Iron Man says. “Give me… thirty seconds.”

 

“Hold on, love,” Steve pleads, and yeah, of course Bucky can do that for his alpha.

 

It’s not easy, though, not by a longshot. These assholes should’ve been toast by now, but that’s just not happening with him in this condition. The alphas in the group - and thankfully there’s only a couple of them - know exactly what’s going on, and whether out of a sense of interest or thinking Bucky’s easy prey, they move toward him. But as they get closer, the odor becomes sharp and tangy, tainted with the underlying scent of his alpha, an integral part of his DNA now. They back up in disgust and turn around, seeking out another available target.

 

Bucky’s managing, but he’s slowly getting backed into a corner under the canopy of a building that is stupidly closed-off; it’s clearly not designed for combat. But bad luck seems to be the story of Bucky’s life. He holds his own, dodging the occasional bullet and swinging the arm like a club instead of using the finesse Hydra had drilled into his bones, in the hope that his enemies will go down quicker.

 

God, Bucky hates close combat. He misses the days when he used to sit in the trees and knock out the bad guys one by one. Or even the days when he’d sit on a rooftop and do the same to the good guys. Anything’s better than this.

 

“Clint,” he growls, forcing the words from his lungs, “we’re trading places next time.”

 

Clint whistles and lets loose an arrow, nailing an attacker right between the eyes before he gets a chance to shoot Bucky. “You need to get your shit straight if you think I’m gonna let you cover my ass.” He doesn’t mean it to be cruel, because this is a straight FUBAR situation, but he grinds his teeth together nonetheless. “Aren’t you due in like two weeks? Why the hell’s this happening now?”

 

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Bucky gasps.

 

“What? What’s happening?” Steve asks in a panic. “Bucky, I’m freaking out here.”

 

Bucky tries to answer, but he can’t catch his breath, fighting both the lust rolling through him in waves as well as their attackers.

 

“I think he’s going into heat, Cap,” Clint replies, and Steve lets out a string of curse words capable of making even Tony Stark blush.

 

“How?”

 

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

 

“Shut up, guys,” Nat says, breathing heavily herself. “Not the time. Get him out of here.”

 

“Yeah, we got this,” Clint adds.

 

Bucky himself is barely able to stand up and is trying not to panic when Iron Man appears above the fray. Several of their attackers turn guns toward the sky, as if they could somehow hit Stark through the suit. Stark flies right by them and picks Bucky up like he weighs nothing, carrying him off into the sky and away from the battle. Bucky breathes a sigh of relief, even though his stomach is starting to cramp painfully. _Fuck._

 

Stark must feel Bucky’s muscles tightening up, or else JARVIS is giving him a readout, because he tries to soothe Bucky. Surprisingly, it works, and he knows he’s pretty far gone if _Tony Stark_ can soothe him.

 

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you. I’ll call in a Code Green, get Steve over here, and uh… then we’ll enjoy an awkward ride to a nice resort nearby.”

 

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it,” Bucky grinds out.

 

“No worries. I own it.”

 

Bucky laughs despite himself. “Of course you do.”

 

“Yep. Honeymoon suite for the two of you. We’ll kick out whoever’s there. Now just hang on.”

 

It’s a little humiliating to be carried around like a delicate flower, not to mention that, while Bucky’s not afraid of heights, being suspended a couple hundred feet above ground level is not his favorite thing. At this point, though, he’s extremely thankful that Stark was there, otherwise he might not’ve made it out of that fight. Not that he plans to tell Steve that.

 

After he’s dropped off at the quinjet, he gives Bruce the sitrep. Bruce, thank heavens, just nods tiredly and steps out the door. In a few moments, Bucky hears the Hulk roar, and knows everything will be just fine.

 

Well, everything except maybe Bucky himself, if Steve doesn’t get his ass back here soon.

 

He’s rolling on the floor with cramps and cursing as slick spills between his thighs when Steve runs through the door, practically jumping on Bucky as he does so. One look at him is enough to have his alpha growling from deep in his chest.

 

“Oh, Bucky. Oh, baby. What happened to you?” Steve’s rough voice contrasts with the way he gingerly handles Bucky, picking him up off the floor and carrying him bridal-style to the back of the jet. There’s a partition and a makeshift med bay; they should be able to start caring for Bucky there.

 

The overwhelming scent of his omega has Steve gritting his teeth. Even in the haze of lust overtaking him, Bucky can feel Steve’s cock poking into his back, and knows he, too, is aroused. He can smell Steve now, and it calms him down like nothing else can. Nevertheless, Bucky starts babbling as Steve gently lays him down on the gurney.

 

“Please, Stevie… _Christ,_ this is too much… please… alpha, _oh god_ , I need it, need you…”

 

Steve appraises the situation, probably wondering how they’re going to manage this on a bed barely made to handle one regular person, yet alone two super soldiers, while Bucky cries out with need. He’s going to lose it soon, become completely nonsensical, if Steve doesn’t get _in_ him.

 

Finally - _finally_ \- Steve shrugs and disrobes in record time, exposing his ridiculously-sized alpha cock and making Bucky’s mouth water, then leans over to unfasten the buckles of Bucky’s tac vest. He curses, and Bucky laughs between bouts of panting and whining.

 

“Not funny, Barnes,” Steve says, voice rough with desire, already an absolute wreck.

 

“Never… _god_ … one day, you’ll learn - _fuck_ \- Stevie, baby, _please_ … you’ll learn how to take off this _shit-fucking-god_ uniform.”

 

Steve bites his bottom lip and hurries the fuck up, then sits down on the gurney next to Bucky.

 

“You need to get horizontal really fucking fast,” Bucky pants. His combat pants are already soaked through, as is the towel on the gurney.

 

“This is gonna be uncomfortable,” Steve warns, and _goddammit Steve don’t you understand I’m in pain here?_ Bucky loves Steve, mind, body, and soul, but his insistence on taking things slow and being careful can drive Bucky up the fucking wall sometimes.

 

Like now, for instance.

 

“Alpha, _please_ …”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I’ve got you, okay?”

 

The gurney creaks as another super soldier mounts it, right on top of his omega, but it doesn’t break. Steve quickly situates himself between Bucky’s spread legs and slides into him all at once. Bucky’s eyes roll into the back of his head. Somewhere outside, the Hulk roars again, and Bucky thinks, inanely, that that’s exactly what it’s like, except in reverse. The roaring rush of blood throughout his body goes quiet the moment Steve enters him, and he sighs in relief.

 

This is just the beginning, of course. In a few moments, he’ll need more, he’ll need Steve to pound him and knot him and drive him mad with pleasure, but for now, his body and mind are at peace.

 

As his heat ramps up once more, Bucky can vaguely catch the rough sound of the engine firing up, and voices - Steve’s? - chattering. That’s impossible, since Steve’s eight inches in him and knotting up fast, but he’s pretty sure it’s Steve’s voice. He feels like he’s losing it, even more than he usually does when in heat; soon, though, his alpha pushes in as far as he can go and forces his knot into Bucky. His mind whites out as he comes and comes and _comes_ like he never has before.

 

When he finally regains awareness of his surroundings, he realizes he’s in the honeymoon suite at the resort hotel Tony had mentioned. Steve is nowhere to be found, and Bucky whines at the loss.

 

Thankfully, his alpha soon walks in with a washcloth and towels that are specially made for omega guests, making soothing noises to calm him down. He sits next to Bucky and places the cool washcloth on his head, giving him a look so fond that at any other time it’d make Bucky want to throw up. Right now it seems perfect.

 

“How you doin’, baby?” Steve asks him softly.

 

“I’m… not sure. Fuzzy,” Bucky admits. “It’s odd, like I’m off balance somehow. More than usual.”

 

Steve nods pensively. “I wonder why it came on so suddenly. We should be two or three weeks out.”

 

“I know. Wonder if your rut will change with my schedule.”

 

“I certainly hope so. It will eventually. For now, though, I’ve still gotta take care of you, even if you suck me dry.”

 

Bucky’s lips curve up into a small smile, all he has the energy for, and rolls his eyes. “Such a way with words.”

 

“Would you rather I dote on you like a hopeless romantic?”

 

“Nothing can hide your true colors anyway. You know that. Most gentlemanly alpha I’ve ever met.”

 

Steve gives him a sly grin. “Think anyone else could fuck you like I do?”

 

Bucky meets his eyes. “Never said that.”

 

“Good, because you’re gonna take it like a super soldier here in a few minutes.”

 

Truthfully, they’ve got about half an hour before the next wave hits, though the intervals between them will get shorter and shorter until Steve will have to keep him knotted for several hours at a time. He can do it no problem, but it’s still much easier during a rut, even for him. Bucky hopes that his cycle matches up with the change soon. Otherwise, Steve’s going to be useless to the team for a while.

 

He starts whining again when Steve stands up and moves to leave the room, but Steve just gives Bucky an exasperated look.

 

“Really, Buck? I’m just going to get you some water and snacks. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

 

Still, Bucky reaches out and grabs him by the wrist, pulling him back to the bed with surprising strength, given the shape he’s in.

 

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

 

Steve pries Bucky’s fingers away, and this time Bucky willingly lets go. “Right. Back. I promise.”

 

Bucky pouts but lets him leave. Truth be told, water sounds lovely right about now. He has the feeling this heat is going to be quite the ride.

 

***

 

“Sweetheart, sweetheart… oh, Buck…”

 

Steve grinds his pelvis against Bucky’s, hitting that spot inside him that makes him squirm and mewl. Days in, the room smells like sex and stale sweat, but he doesn’t care because his baby’s scent is still intoxicating. Steve can’t help himself, just grinds harder, rolling his hips and making Bucky go wild underneath him.

 

“Steve,” he whimpers - one of the most gorgeous sounds in the world as far as Steve is concerned. “I can’t take anymore.”

 

Sweat beads all over his omega’s body - the poor thing has to be dehydrated as hell, even with the epic amounts of water they’ve been drinking. He has to make sure he takes care of Bucky as well as he can.

 

“I’ve got you, Buck. I’m right here and I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

 

“Need your knot.”

 

Steve doesn’t say anything, just speeds up and starts thrusting in and out again. Bucky’s as slick as he was the first day of his heat, but knotting him is a slow high now, compared to what it was before.

 

He starts thrusting erratically, getting closer and closer to the edge, balls tightening in preparation. He gasps as he comes, as he feels the base of his cock start to swell. He locks himself in tight, pushing into Bucky as deeply as he can go, and wraps his legs around him to pull them both down onto their sides.

 

“Goddamn, baby,” Steve sighs into Bucky’s neck and wraps his arms tight around him. It’s three o’clock in the morning, but it finally feels like Bucky’s heat has run its course. At least it better have after five goddamn days - what the hell was that about?

Bucky makes some nonsense sound and snuggles back into Steve. There’s slick and come leaking out of him, smearing on Steve’s stomach, but that’s no problem. They’ll get the sheets changed tomorrow, though he feels bad for the poor housekeepers having to deal with that. For now, though, he’s too exhausted to really worry about it.

 

Now that the haze is fading, Steve is starting to realize just how much he and Bucky owe the team, for several reasons. Bucky hasn’t been allowed on solo missions yet, and after this, he likely won’t ever get that clearance. That’s gonna be a hell of a fight in the future, but Bucky would have been fucked if this had happened without the team nearby. They can’t afford to risk a repeat of that day’s events sometime in the future; Steve is selfish enough to admit that _he_ can’t afford to risk Bucky’s health and safety like that. He needs his omega, end of discussion.

 

And Sam - poor Sam had had to pilot the quinjet while Steve fucked Bucky senseless, had to try to carry on a conversation with him _in flagrante_ , and had to help Steve set up the room for Bucky. The poor guy deserves a medal as far as Steve is concerned. He’d been as gentle as possible with Sam, but like any other warm-blooded alpha, Steve had gotten a little territorial around his on-heat omega. He doesn’t remember everything, but there had definitely been a little bit of growling and teeth-baring.

 

He winces as he absentmindedly combs his fingers through Bucky’s sweat-damp hair. Yeah, they definitely owe the team. Big time.

 

“I can hear you thinkin’ back there,” Bucky says, voice hoarse from the last few days’ activities. Steve gets the feeling that Bucky wants to turn around and look at him, but they’re still knotted, and Steve isn’t done with wanting to hold his omega close anyway.

 

“Just wonderin’ if your heat’s finally done.”

 

Bucky snickers. “Can’t handle anymore, Captain?”

 

Oh, Lord in heaven, his omega knows how to press his buttons. “I wouldn’t place money on that,” he warns.

 

“Mmm, I love it when you get all testy with me.”

 

“I’ve noticed,” Steve replies drily. “In all seriousness, aren’t you tired yet?”

 

“I’ve been dissociating to stop it from taking over. So yeah.”

 

“Oh, of all the - goddammit, Buck. You’re not supposed to do that anymore.”

 

Bucky shrugs as well as he can while wrapped up tightly in Steve’s arms. “It’s helpful sometimes.”

 

“It’s bad for you,” Steve reasons, knowing it’s a lost cause. How many times have they had this conversation?

 

“You were thinkin’ about the team, weren’t you?” Bucky asks, deftly changing the topic.

 

“Yeah. Thought maybe we should do something special for them. Especially poor Sam.”

 

“Why Sam?”

 

“Don’t you remember? He took us on the quinjet while I was literally fucking you silly.”

 

“Oh. _Oh._ That’s who you were talking to?”

 

“Jesus, you were really out of it.”

 

“Yeah. Hit me like a ton of bricks.”

 

“I wonder what the hell’s going on. Bruce is going to have to take a look at you.”

 

Bucky stiffens in his arms. It’s no secret - or surprise - that Bucky hates people ‘looking at him.’ Doctors and labs are two of his least favorite things.

 

“We’ve gotta get to the bottom of this,” Steve tells him softly. “Don’t want it happening again, right?” He kisses the nape of Bucky’s neck, soothing the spot where he’d sunk in his teeth just hours ago. The mark’s already faded, an unwelcome side effect of the serum. Only the scars from before the war remain on their bodies, thankfully including their bond mark, where Steve had first tasted his omega’s blood. Where he’d merged his own DNA with Bucky’s.

 

“I guess,” Bucky grumbles, and Steve figures at least he can win one argument around here.

 

“We should get some sleep,” he mumbles, feeling it start to tug him down into its depths. His knot is finally shrinking, and he can tell from the scent in their suite that Bucky’s heat is finally finished. _Hallelujah_ , they can get some real rest.

 

***

 

It happens in the middle of the night. Bucky awakens drenched in sweat (again), confused and terrified. Steve, ever on alert when it comes to his mate, jolts awake with a gasp and immediately grabs Bucky, holding him tightly and rocking him back and forth.

 

When Bucky had come back to him, they weren’t able to do this. Bucky was completely hostile, even though he’d recognized his mate from the moment they’d met again on the bridge, so many months ago now. He’d run away from Hydra, run away from his alpha, had gone into hiding for several weeks while Steve looked everywhere, and had nearly torn his hair out in frustration. He’d needed a therapist just to help him with several nervous habits he’d picked up since Bucky reappeared and then disappeared again. Bucky had finally come in from the cold when his heat started, after Hydra’s extra-strength hormonal suppressants had worn off. Steve had known the instant Bucky set foot in the building that he was there and in need.

 

That first heat had been hell. Bucky was agitated even as he’d spread his legs for his alpha, even as he’d begged Steve to knot him. Steve could fuck him, but putting his hands on him would result in snapping teeth and bruising blows. They’d both walked out of that needing a few days to recover. Bucky had gone into protective custody, snarling at anyone who came near. It had shattered Steve to see his omega like that; what good was an alpha if he couldn’t protect his own omega?

 

Now, after months of stuttering, painful progression, things are back to the way they were during the war, even before, with Steve taking care of his omega the best he knew how. People had made fun of Bucky back before the war, saying it was ridiculous that he’d taken an alpha so small and weak and unable to fight for him. The two of them had never minded then, and despite the serum, that hadn’t changed. Steve’s size was never what mattered.

 

Steve holds Bucky tight until he stops shaking and whining low in his throat, like he has a tendency to do, at least on those nights when he’s not screaming his head off.

 

“You okay, Buck?” he finally asks, and that’s when Bucky shocks him.

 

“Steve,” he says in a small voice, “I don’t want this anymore.”

 

“Want what, baby? Being an Avenger? Going into heat? We can do something about both of those.”

 

“The serum.”

 

And that - that’s about as unexpected as it gets. Steve can’t imagine his life without the serum, with all the good things it’s done for him, namely saving him from an early grave. And allowing him to be here with Bucky now. He can’t imagine why Bucky would not want his own.

 

“I’m… not sure I understand,” he says slowly. “Why don’t you want it anymore?”

 

“Because,” Bucky whispers, sounding near tears now. “Because they gave it to me. I don’t want their ‘gift’ anymore. Just like I got a new arm… if I can’t be whole, I at least want to be _me_ again.”

 

Okay, maybe Steve should’ve thought of that - it wasn’t really a gift for Bucky. He wouldn’t have survived the fall if not for the serum, but he wouldn’t have become the Winter Soldier, either.

 

But he wouldn’t be with Steve now, and isn’t that a selfish thought?

 

“Buck… baby, you _are_ you. Always have been. They couldn’t take you away from me, could they?”

 

Bucky sighs and moves away from him; it hurts Steve’s heart a little. He should always, _always_ be able to comfort his omega. That’s an alpha’s job.

 

“It’s not the same, and you know it. They put this… stuff… in me, and I never had a say-so in it. And I know the serum has done good things for me as well as bad, but… you just don’t understand. Because it saved you, and it doomed me.”

 

Oh, how his heart hurts to hear that. Steve is stuck between feeling selfish, exasperated, and understanding, and it’s not a pleasant place to be.

 

“It didn’t… doom you, Buck. You’re here now, aren’t you?” he asks in a voice far more timid and less confident than he'd like.

 

Bucky looks at him. Only two super soldiers like them would be able to see in that darkness. They can see each other just fine. Bucky looks exhausted, and from more than just the heat; Steve’s not sure why he didn’t see it before. Maybe he hasn’t been paying enough attention. God, he feels like the world’s worst alpha.

 

“I don’t expect you to get it,” Bucky says, shaking his head. “But you need to respect it.”

 

Steve _doesn’t_ get it, and that’s going to drive him crazy, but he can at least do that much for Bucky. “Alright. We’ll talk to Bruce and Tony tomorrow. Maybe they’ll have the answers.”

 

Bucky blows out a long breath as though he’d been holding it, and maybe he had been. Not knowing how Steve would react, Steve, who is thankful every single day for Bucky, and who lets him know that on a regular basis.

 

“Come to bed,” he says softly, and this time, Bucky crawls back in with him. Steve wraps his limbs around Bucky’s body like he can’t bear to let go, and they sleep peacefully for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

 

\

“You want me to de-serum you.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Bruce looks helplessly at Tony, who shrugs. “Is that even possible?” Bruce asks, turning back to Steve and Bucky, who are sitting on the lab bench and looking nervous as hell.

 

“It’s gotta be,” Bucky says stubbornly. 

 

“I mean, I can try… I’m just not sure I understand why.”

 

Steve winces; Bucky is a little surly this morning, as if he’s fully expecting pushback from the team. As if the team doesn’t trust him to make his own decisions. It’s purely insecurity left over from Bucky’s time with Hydra, and Steve almost growls. He’d thought that maybe several days’ worth of fucking might calm his alpha instincts down at least a little, but clearly that’s not the case.

 

Fucking hell, he wants to torture the bastards that did this to Bucky, made him so unsure about his position on the team and insecure about their opinions. Insecure about his own decisions. 

 

“Does it matter?” Bucky asks bitterly. 

 

Steve puts his arms around his omega. Bucky lets him, but he’s stiff as a board. Stressed over this, when he shouldn’t be.

 

“It might. The team relies on you.”

 

“Listen, you sonofa-”

 

“Bucky,” Steve says loudly, startling his omega out of his rant. “Look at me.” Bucky does so, pissed off as hell but obedient in the way an omega is to their alpha. Bucky’s unable to resist the command in that tone. “You don’t need to take this out on Bruce. He’s here to help.” Steve lets his voice drop a little so the others can’t overhear. “He’s not gonna tell you that you can’t do this. We just want to make sure you understand the potential consequences.”

 

_ Like being stuck at the Tower while the rest of us are in the field, _ he thinks, but he keeps it to himself.

 

Bucky bites his tongue with enough pressure to draw blood before he finally speaks. 

 

“Yeah, okay. It’s just… this is kind of personal for me. I don’t want everyone talking about my issues, you know?”

 

Bruce smiles at Bucky, and Steve can feel some of the tension drain out of him. “Doctor-patient confidentiality. I’m not going to breathe a word about this. I just want to move forward with a clear conscience. If this has any chance of harming you-”

 

“We’ll deal with it then,” Steve says. “He’s right, though, Buck.”

 

Bucky grumbles under his breath and then turns to look meaningfully at Stark, who throws his hands in the air.

 

“What, I can’t be trusted to keep a secret? I keep lots of secrets.”

 

Even Bruce gives him The Look. “Probably best for Barnes if you left this part to me.”

 

Steve bares his teeth at Tony, who just rolls his eyes and heads for the door. “Suit yourselves. But Cap, maybe calm down a little bit. Lots of threats out there. I’m not one of ‘em.” 

 

Steve doesn’t change his expression until Tony’s out of the lab, but then he frowns. Jesus, what’s with him today? 

 

Must be how on edge Bucky is. 

 

Yeah, he’s going with that. 

 

“Alright,” Bruce starts, face scrunched up in that way he gets when he’s pondering some complex problem. “I need to know what’s going on.”

 

Bucky sighs and looks down at his hands, which are folded on his lap. Steve reaches out and grabs one, holding on tightly. This is much better than the SHIELD-mandated counseling session he’d expected when Bucky brought this up, but it still kills him to see his omega like this.

 

Bucky explains it to Bruce. Steve’s glad they sent Tony away for this; Bruce is one of the only people on Earth who can understand having something inside that he can’t get rid of. Natasha would understand in her own way, but for her, it’s not a physical thing. Not like it is for them. 

 

(In a way, that makes it worse, but he doesn’t want to go down that road right now. This one is bad enough.)

 

Banner seems to get it, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. In this mood, had there been any pushback, he might’ve been tempted to start a fight. And he probably wouldn’t have won a fight with the Hulk.

 

“Okay. I’ll do this, and Tony will help, whether he understands the reasons or not. But I want you to be absolutely certain-”

 

“I’m certain.”

 

“- that you want this. Your life is going to change dramatically. You won’t be able to lift a car off of Steve if he gets stuck underneath one. You’ll grow old while Steve doesn’t age.”

 

Bucky grits his teeth but looks hesitantly at Steve, who gives him an encouraging look. 

 

“I’m certain,” he repeats.

 

Bruce nods, a strangely tender expression on his face. “Alright. We’ll get it started. In the meantime, get some rest. That heat took a lot out of you.”

 

“How do you know that?” Steve asks, alarmed. Is their combined exhaustion that obvious?

 

“It was five days before either of you left that suite,” Bruce responds drily. “Even a pair of super soldiers aren’t built to withstand that kind of punishment. Go. Get some rest. I’ll call you in a couple days, I hope.”

 

“Sounds good,” Steve says, squeezing Bucky’s hand as he stands up. “And Bruce?”

 

“Hmm?” Bruce asks absentmindedly, already wrapped up in a different puzzle. “What’s up?”

 

“Thank you.” 

 

Bruce’s brown eyes meet his over the rim of his glasses. He nods, solemn. “You’re a part of my family, Steve, both of you. I don’t want to see either of you unhappy.”

 

Suddenly feeling a faint buzzing in his ears and a suspicious scratching at the back of his throat, Steve leaves the lab with Bucky in tow, feeling better about the future than he has in a long time. 

 

***

 

This is it. This is the point in Steve’s life where he’s going to punch something for no reason other than that he can. After all this time, he’s going to become a bully, and it’s all Bucky’s fault.

 

He steps in toward the bag and throws the hardest punch yet. Stark’s gym is now full of them, lying all over the floor like little fallen soldiers. He’s going to have to buy some more, especially if things continue the way they’ve been recently. 

 

Bucky had been fine after they’d gone back up to their suite at the tower. He’d seemed to be in good spirits, all things considered. Nobody was certain that Stark and/or Banner could get rid of the serum, but Bucky’d seemed hopeful, and, Steve had thought, open to the idea that it might not work. He’d be disappointed, but he could handle it.

 

The funny thing is, Banner and Stark have gotten closer to making it a reality, but Bucky has been acting stranger every time Steve sees him. He’s rude, lashing out whenever he talks to Steve; either that or he just leaves the room. In their shared bed, he turns away, scooting toward the opposite edge, as far away from Steve as he can get. 

 

And Steve’s tried asking him what’s wrong. It seems like Bucky is going to get what he wants, and it’s not like Steve’s unhappy about the idea. Sure, there’s going to be an argument after he tells his omega that he’s not going on assignments anymore, at least not on the ground, but if it’s worth it to Bucky, he’s happy to go along with it. 

 

Only Bucky is acting like a spoiled brat, keeping his alpha at bay until Steve is ready to rip the entire gym to shreds.

 

With one last hit, the fifth punching bag flies to the floor, rolling up against the others. Steve is dripping with sweat and probably about to get yelled at by his teammates - Natasha, anyway - but fuck, it’s still not enough! 

 

He forces his jaw to relax and heads over to the locker room at the other end of the gym. Normally, he’d shower in his own suite, but at this point, he’d like to stay away from Bucky for as long as possible. Not that it’s really helping, but it’s not hurting, either, which it definitely would if he had to be around that sour face and ridiculous attitude right now. 

 

He’s in the middle of washing his armpits in scalding hot water when Natasha rounds the corner easy-as-you-please. If Steve hadn’t been a super soldier, he’d have jumped right out of his skin. It sets him on edge regardless. After all, it’s not every day an omega walks right into an alpha’s shower, bonded or no, and especially one bred for the purpose of seduction.

 

Steve sets his jaw again and glares at her, reaching over to turn off the water while making every possible attempt to cover himself, which only makes Natasha snort. 

 

“Don’t end your shower on my account, big boy,” she mocks, sliding her tongue along the ridges of her upper teeth. “Ain’t like I’ve never seen it before.”

 

The fuck? 

 

“... Uh, mind telling me when? Actually, you know, never mind. I don’t want to know. Let’s start with ‘why are you here?’”

 

She rolls her eyes. On anyone else, it’d look bratty, but she somehow manages to make Steve feel bad. “I didn’t mean you. Well, actually… yeah, I do mean you.”

 

“Very funny. Why are you here, really?”

 

Natasha watches him carefully as he dries off, not bothering to hide her enjoyment. “No reason. I mean, other than the trouble in paradise that we’re all getting a little sick of.”

 

_ So that’s what this is about. Should’ve figured. _

 

Steve isn’t sure what to say, so he wraps the towel around himself and looks down, scuffing his toes on the tiled floor. Tony keeps it so clean in here, he can practically see his own reflection in it. Staring at it ain’t doin’ him any good, because he can  _ feel  _ Nat’s hawk eyes on him. Weighing him. Judging him.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he finally manages. “Kinda came in here to get a few minutes away.”

 

“That why you were destroying Tony’s gym?”

 

He bites his lip; the irritation he’d been feeling is all but gone, and now he feels drained. “Gotta let it out somehow.”

 

He looks up in time to catch the arch of one perfectly-manicured eyebrow. “Or you could, I don’t know, try to fix it.”

 

“What do you think I’ve been doing?”

 

“Ignoring it.”

 

“Nat, I’ve tried talking to him-”

 

“Not hard enough.”

 

He chews his lip harder - bad fucking habit, that, and Bucky’s always on him about it, too - and stews for a moment. “What would you have me do, then, if you know better than his own alpha does?”

 

She bares her teeth, indicating that she feels threatened. He’s not buying it for an instant. 

 

“C’mon, Nat. You know I’ve talked to him. And I can’t force him to do… anything. All I can do is try to lead him to the right answers. After all he’s been through...” 

 

He trails off. 

 

“You and your morals,” she says, but she doesn’t sound miffed. She sounds… proud. “That’s not what I’m asking you to do anyway. But you’ve gotta come up with some other tactic, because if something goes down and we need the both of you, we’ll need you at your best.”

 

Steve sighs and walks back toward the lockers, beckoning Natasha along. “Well, you’re not wrong. I just… I don’t know what else to say to him, Nat. I’ve tried asking him what’s wrong, tried to get him to talk to me, and it’s like he’s regressed somehow. I don’t understand it; he’s getting what he wanted, right?”

 

“Are you sure he wanted it?” she asks softly.

 

“I have to believe him when he tells me things. There has to be trust there. And yeah - I do believe him. Not that there aren’t some reservations there, but overall… I mean, you should’ve seen him. The night he asked… he was crawling out of his skin.”

 

“Alright. You’ll have to try something else. The boys are close to having an answer for you. You need to be on the same page.” 

 

Steve is a second away from asking her if she’d be willing to talk to him, but he refrains. Hell, she probably already _ has  _ talked to Bucky, and she’s trying to get Steve to say the right thing now.

 

He gives her a pointed glance and drops the towel, but she just shrugs. Okay, fair enough. 

 

“This is all so complicated.” The old, too-tight USO shirt feels comfortable on his skin, like a security blanket. 

 

“He’s your responsibility, Steve,” she says, finally getting to the meat of it, and yes - she’s absolutely right. Bucky  _ is  _ Steve’s responsibility. 

 

Nat walks away before he can respond. He watches her go, wondering what kind of power play that was supposed to be: a threat, or maybe advice, or even just a teammate’s concern. Whatever it’d been, he has a duty to his omega to figure out what’s going on, because the truth is… The truth is, he’s in Bucky’s bones. Quite literally.

 

_ These are the things they never tell you about being an alpha. _

 

***

 

What Bucky wants to know is as follows: Can he blame it on the hormones? 

 

_ Okay, maybe that’s a little bit unfair, _ he reasons as he stares out at the New York skyline from atop Avengers Tower. The roof is, predictably, where he likes to go when the Soldier’s marching at the edge of his consciousness, ready to be let out of the cage. And it’s okay on the battlefield, sometimes, when he has the leather strap and the mask and the means to keep him in check… but this is a different story, and Steve doesn’t deserve it. Steve doesn’t deserve any of it, but the truth is, Bucky doesn’t know what to do. 

 

It’s not like there’s any doubt in his mind that he wants it done. Even before that nightmare-

 

_ The arm - it’s rust, it’s rust, he’s rusting from the inside out MY SKIN IS RED I’M FLAKING APART oh god help me help me HELP ME- _

 

He suppresses the urge to vomit, because revisiting that dream right now is not something he wants - or needs - to do. Because even before that, he’d felt the violation on a bone-deep level, almost like they’d… Hell, like Hydra’d taken Steve out of him and put in their own serpent’s DNA. And if Bucky were to try and explain that to Steve, he’d end up getting the kicked-puppy face, and goddammit, Bucky can’t stand that fucking face. He wants to punch it off of Steve, and that would be very unproductive. 

 

He snorts. ‘Unproductive’ is an understatement. 

 

Bucky’s worked with his fair share of alphas in the past. Having been bonded to Steve prior to the war, their DNA had been intertwined to the point that even Hydra couldn’t change it. Therefore, they had left him alone sexually, a fact for which Bucky will be forever grateful. But it’s not like there hadn’t been plenty of posturing around him, which had made even the brainwashed soldier roll his eyes. As far as alphas go, Steve Rogers is one of the most gentle in existence, and that’s not just because he happens to be Bucky’s alpha. There’s a reason Bucky had chosen him, weak and scrawny as he once was. Standing up for unbonded omegas crowded by large, rutting alphas - that took more guts than Bucky had ever had, or will ever have. 

 

_ Christ _ , he loves Steve. 

 

So why is he treating him like shit? 

 

The brainwashing excuse only gets him so far. Not that it’s an excuse; that shit fucked him up good, and even without all the murder, he’ll never again be the boy he’d been when he shipped out from Brooklyn all those years ago. Not even close. And Steve, his poor, gentle Steve, still misses that boy something fierce. It’s a sour note between them, Steve always insisting that he loves Bucky as he is (he does), and that he doesn’t miss that young man who was always smiling and flirting (he does). 

 

And, truth be told, Bucky misses him, too. It’s pointless to deny that part of his desire to rid himself of the serum comes from wanting the old Bucky back, both for his sake and for Steve’s. But Rogers himself would give him that damn sad puppy look, and - no. Just no. Bucky sure as shit ain’t dealing with that right now. 

 

It’s complicated, that’s the thing. The desire is real, twisted up by all these sickening emotions, and he just wants rid of it. But facing Steve with the depth of what he feels - what he couldn’t hide from his alpha even if he wanted to - well, he’d rather jump off the damn Tower before going there. Hence his little lookout. 

 

… Which is currently occupied by one more person than it should be.

 

“I know you’re there, Natalia. You don’t really think you can hide from me, do you?”

 

She steps out of the shadows, unapologetic, beautiful face surrounded by her hair and utterly perfect in the moonlight. It’s unfair to her, perhaps to them both, but Bucky mourns the fact that such advanced genetic engineering technology went to creating such broken people. That’s obviously at Hydra’s feet, but… still. He and ‘Talia are never going to live up to their potential, end of story.

 

Maybe that’s why she gets straight to the point with him. Or maybe she’s like that with everyone. He’s not sure.

 

“Are you two idiots both just going to mope around all the time? Or are you going to fix this?”

 

His eyebrows climb as their eyes meet. An unspoken conversation passes between them.

 

_ Jeopardizing the one bond I have left? _

 

_ You’re doing that anyway. _

 

_ Am I? _

 

She looks away. Out of everyone on this Earth, only Natalia has an inkling of what it’s like to bear a soul scarred beyond recognition. Only one person had been able to recognize his, and to share even a little bit of what gave him those scars… No. No, this is safer. Better to avoid it until he can come up with… something different. Something other than explaining it. 

 

“Talk to him,” she says eventually, turning to leave his not-so-hidden-spot. “You guys have to work through this. He’s your mate, James.”

 

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just focuses on the hot breath exiting from between his lips. Of course he knows Steve’s his mate. He wears him like a second skin, inescapable and inexorable as the tide. 

 

_ These are the things they don’t tell you about being an omega. _

 

***

 

The procedure is simple enough. Just walk into this… surprisingly roomy contraption, stand straight and still while they pump you full of strange blue fluid, and walk out a new man. Simple, right?

 

Well, it would be if  _ someone _ didn’t insist on standing in the goddamn machine with him. And Tony and Bruce are not helping matters either.

 

“What? He’ll be fine in there. Capsicle and Bucky-pop, sittin’ in a tree. Or, rather, sitting in an unspecified newly-minted contraption made especially for shrinking men back down to mortal size. Shape. Genetics. Whatever. You get my point.” 

 

Bruce removes his glasses and rubs at the pulse jumping in his temple. “Sure, Tony, I’ll just let the only other super soldier on Earth walk into said contraption that is designed to de-serum a super soldier. That’ll go over well.”

 

“Well, he’s not getting the juice,” Tony reasons. “Should be safe, yeah?”

 

“That… might not be how this works.”

 

“Okay, let’s try another tack. Do you fancy pulling two hundred and forty pounds of pissed-off, overprotective alpha off his own omega? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t.”

 

Bruce is silent for a moment, looking peeved, like he wants to keep arguing but can’t reason with that point. And he can’t - Bucky knows. Bucky, who is already standing in the… thing, machine, whatever… feeling anxious as hell, standing next to his alpha that he hasn’t said a kind word to in nearly a week, and  _ shit shit shit _ this can’t end well.

 

Bruce finally opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Jarvis’ posh accent cuts in over the lab speakers. 

 

“If I may interrupt?” 

 

“Go for it, J-dog,” Tony says.

 

“I calculate a six-point-seven-seven percent chance that Captain Rogers’ own serum will be affected if he remains in the machine. Given the likelihood he’ll lash out if you go near Sergeant Barnes at this time, I’d exercise caution. Perhaps a calm discussion will help.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Sounds like you’ve got the talking all figured out.”

 

A pause. “Very well. Captain Rogers, I highly suggest…” 

 

“Not in a million goddamn years,” Steve growls next to him, and  _ Jesus fucking Christ, _ this overbearing, overprotective motherfucker is not helping his anxiety in the least… 

 

The next thing Bucky knows, Steve is standing over him with the  _ worried _ puppy dog look, and he feels a little like someone bashed his head in with a baseball bat. He’s aware of a low moaning noise, but it takes a few moments before he realizes that it’s him making it. Steve hovers over him, clearly in a mild state of panic, at least until Bucky’s able to sit up. The world spins for a few seconds and then rights itself. 

 

He must’ve hit his head going down. Thank goodness for the… serum… 

 

_ Christ. _

 

“I’m fine,” he tells Steve, but it comes out as weak as a newborn kitten. 

 

“The hell you are. Can we do this right now, with him like this?” Steve asks the others, and fuck, now Bucky’s getting mad. 

 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” he yells, pushing Steve away. 

 

And there’s the _ hurt puppy _ look. Of course.

 

“He’ll be alright,” Banner tells them through the thick glass. “I’m gonna run a calibration first to be on the safe side, but we’re pretty confident everything’s fine. Bucky included,” he adds, giving Steve a long look.

 

Steve sighs and sits fully on the floor next to him. Bucky leans his head on Steve’s shoulder and closes his eyes as thick fingers card through his hair.

 

“Guess we’ve got a few minutes. You wanna tell me what’s been going on with you?”

 

“Not really,” Bucky mumbles into his shoulder. “Just wanna get it over with.”

 

“Buck, if you’re not sure-”

 

“I’m sure, Steve,” he says tiredly. “I’m worried about what everyone else is going to think, and there won’t be room for that once it’s over, you know?”

 

Steve is quiet for a few moments, undoubtedly sensing that Bucky is lying by omission somehow. Bastard always has been able to read him like a book. He doesn’t push it, though, thank heavens. For once in his life, Steve Rogers lets something go.

 

“So, you okay with having me in here?” he asks instead.

 

Bucky picks up his heavy head and looks him in the eye, seeing all the worry and confusion he’s caused in the last week written plainly on Steve’s face. “Yeah, ‘course I am. And I’m sorry. About this week.”

 

Steve shushes him. “Don’t be sorry. I know you need to work things through on your own sometimes. You were like that in the thirties and forties too, you know.”

 

He crinkles his brow. “Was I? Or are you making shit up?” 

 

Steve chuckles and kisses his temple. “Serious. Dead serious. Hell, one time you ran away for three days. It was after I caught you flirting with that Johnstone dame. Before we were bonded? I thought you were going to forsake living as an omega and choose a beta for a partner.”

 

Bucky scoffs at the thought. A grin slowly crosses his face. “No way in hell I’d give this up, pal. Not for anything. No matter how much of a pain in the ass you can be sometimes. You’re part of me.”

 

Steve positively beams. All at once, the tension leaves Bucky’s body. He’s tired, but finally ready to get it done.

 

Stark clears his throat. “If you two lovebirds are done being absolutely, disgustingly adorable, can we get on with it?”

 

“Yep. Ready when you are.”

 

“Alright. Get back into position. Steve, you can hold his hand while the drugs go in, but once we turn on this machine, you’ll have to step back for a few minutes. You can handle that, right?”

 

Steve glares. “Of course I can handle it.”

 

“It’s a fair question,” Bucky says, and Steve smacks him playfully.

 

“No! Nothing physical! Had to see enough of that just a few days ago,” Stark mutters. “Okay, gentlemen, let’s do it!” 

 

The procedure is quick and efficient. The blue sludge they put in his veins doesn’t burn and sting like Zola’s cut-rate serum had; it’s just a little cold, like saline. He doesn’t have another anxiety attack despite the IV in his arm, and maybe Steve’s presence has more than a little to do with that. Sometimes, Bucky hates how much he needs Steve, but at times like this, he’s incredibly grateful to have found his alpha again.

 

Once the procedure is over, Steve carries him to bed. He’s tired, and his bones ache, but so far, that’s the only other indication of change. Well, that, and the fact that he and Steve are on speaking terms again. Bucky swears he’s never been happier to feel his alpha’s arms around him as he falls asleep, not even that first terrifying night in the Tower, when he’d been needy and mewling and utterly bewildered until Steve had soothed him with kind words and sweet touches. He falls asleep wondering what changes will occur now that the serum is gone. Hopefully nothing drastic. 

 

He still has a job to do, after all.

 

***

 

Steve must have fallen asleep around the same time Bucky did, because Bucky can feel him startle when the alarm to assemble begins to ring. Usually, they sleep half-cocked, ready to get out of bed at the first sign of danger. Hazards of the job and all, or maybe a result of their paranoia. Bucky just hopes Steve was as relieved to have him back in his arms as Bucky was to be there. 

 

Jumping out of bed and grabbing his phone, Steve scans the text message and frowns. 

 

“What is it?” Bucky asks as he throws off his half of the covers. Steve mumbles something in response, barely paying attention to Bucky as he scrambles out of the room. Bucky curses as he follows.

 

Their uniforms are, as usual, clean and pressed in the hallway closet. Steve grabs his and is halfway through changing when he notices that Bucky is getting dressed right next to him. 

 

“Um… what do you think you’re doing?”

 

“I’m coming with you.”

 

“The hell you are.” 

 

Bucky looks at him like he’s lost his mind, because he  _ obviously fucking has. _ “What do you want me to do, sit around all damn day while you go out and risk your life? No. I’m going.”

 

Steve stops, surprise and anger at war on his face. “The hell you are,” he repeats.

 

Bucky forces himself to continue dressing calmly. “What are you going to do, stop me?”

 

“I’m your team leader, so yes. The others will listen to me if I say you’re out.”

 

“I suppose you think that’s true, huh?” Bucky asks, somewhat amused. “And you also seem to remember that I’ve run solo for… I don’t know, some seventy-odd years? Like I can’t follow your idiot ass.”

 

Steve practically  _ squawks _ . “And what do you think you’re going to do? As someone without serum, you’re just a regular soldier.”

 

That deserves a biting comeback, but he manages to control himself. It helps keep Steve calm when Bucky stays calm, and they both need that right now. “Natasha and Clint are ‘just soldiers.’ Highly trained ones. Just. Like. Me,” he says pointedly.

 

Steve takes a step forward and gets into Bucky’s space. Bucky lets out a breath, preparing himself for a physical fight. 

 

“Natasha and Clint aren’t my omega,” Steve says in that tone, the one alphas evolved to use on their omegas when they needed to take control, and it takes all of Bucky’s considerable self-control to resist it. 

 

“I’m going, Steve. You can’t dissuade me. We’re wasting time.”

 

Steve takes another step forward. He’s so close now, Bucky can feel his hot breath against his lips. 

 

“No,” Steve growls.

 

“How are you going to stop me?” Bucky asks, unimpressed.

 

Steve’s entire face changes, grows ugly, the way it does in the middle of a fight he’s not sure he can win. Bucky had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but here they are. 

 

_ “How are you supposed to defend yourself?” _ Steve yells.  _ “I can’t be looking out for you all the time!” _

 

“So I’m a burden, then?”

 

Steve simultaneously sweeps his foot around and grabs at Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky tries to twist away, but the de-seruming procedure must have worked - he’s nowhere near fast enough, and that’s new. Not in a good way, but it is what it is now. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s going anyway.

 

He’s on the ground with Steve’s bulk sitting directly on top of him, holding Bucky’s flesh arm behind his back like an idiot.  _ Wrong arm to fuck with, Stevie, _ he thinks, wanting to giggle. Distantly, he registers the sound of a text message, probably the team wondering where the hell they are. 

 

Well, this is going to be over soon.

 

“You have nothing to defend yourself  _ with _ . You’re not going. End of discussion.”

 

Bucky snorts and holds himself still. If he tenses up, Steve will know that something’s coming. When he’s ready, he pours all the sass he has into his voice. 

 

“Oh, I don’t know, how about this  _ metal fucking arm _ ?”

 

Before the sentence has even finished leaving his mouth, Bucky uses his metal arm to elbow Steve in the chest, hard enough to knock him off, and then he immediately takes advantage of it - he only has one shot at this - and swings the arm around, putting all his body weight behind it. The blow lands dead center, and Steve makes a funny  _ woofing _ sound before falling onto his back, stunned.

 

“That blow would’ve killed a regular person. I’m going.” 

 

Bucky stands up and continues getting dressed, feeling Steve’s eyes on him the entire time. What he’s not expecting is for Steve to get up behind him, toss him against the wall, and kiss him breathless, morning breath or no.

 

When they pull apart, Steve leans his forehead on Bucky’s. “You’re sniping. I don’t want you in the fray this time.”

 

Bucky gives him a soft smile and kisses him again, deep and passionate but unhurried despite the near-constant stream of text messages blowing up Steve’s phone. 

 

“I know,” he tells his alpha. “That’s exactly where I’ll be.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE ART IS HERE!!!! IT'S AMAZING!!!!

  
  


Nobody is surprised to see Bucky on the quinjet, though both he and Steve get some dirty looks for being late. He’s sure that the team is aware that an argument occurred, especially ‘Talia and Tony, who are both omegas, and figuring out the topic of their argument is probably pretty easy to guess from there. Steve smells like a steam engine, strong like always, with an edge of oil and maybe something metallic. It’s intimidating, and it warns anyone with the right scent glands to watch out. But because their team is awesome, no one says anything. 

 

Underneath the obvious recent distress, Bucky can sense that Steve is resigned to this. The scent is barely there; others wouldn’t be able to notice, but Bucky knows his alpha. He grabs Steve’s hand and squeezes tightly. Steve gives him a grateful smile, and the relatively short ride to Newfoundland goes smoothly. 

 

At least until they reach their destination.

 

They’d gotten a tip-off from a former lackey that, against all odds, the man who had made such a mess in Los Angeles is still alive. Clint had shot him with a poison dart right in the neck, one coated in enough toxin to kill anyone but a super soldier. Which means this asshole is probably enhanced, likely with regenerative capabilities. 

 

The man’s base of operations is an underground bunker in the middle of a forest, hidden underneath an old farmhouse. It’s unfortunately sparse forest, mostly thin fir trees interspersed with darker, thicker spruce, and the fact that they’re not in a quinjet modified for invisibility means someone who’s looking could easily spot them. 

 

Seemingly from out of nowhere, an explosion rocks the jet. Everybody is strapped in and it doesn’t blow a hole in the side, but the alarms blare loudly and the panic in the pilot’s voice as he explains what just happened doesn’t instill confidence in anyone. 

 

Nor does the fact that they were hit with a  _ missile. _

 

They’re discussing evacuation options when another missile hits, and the quinjet slowly tilts, unable to reliably fly straight. They probably only have a few moments to get out of Dodge.

 

Steve, of course, grabs a parachute for Bucky first, before anyone else can even make it to the equipment locker. Bucky shouts at him to grab his rifle and _his own parachute_ _too_ , but Steve - the asshole - ignores him. _Great._

 

As the others line up for their emergency gear, Barton shouts loud enough to be heard over the alarms. Bucky sincerely hopes the poor guy doesn’t have his hearing aids in right now. Otherwise, he’s going to have a hell of a headache later. 

 

“What the hell’s going on?” Clint asks. 

 

Steve grimaces. “He must’ve gotten word of our arrival somehow. Either our mole was an informant or we have a mole of our own.”

 

“Impossible! No one even knew we were planning to come out here. Fury and Hill, plus the six of us. And the pilot, poor bastard.”

 

Steve nods and runs toward the front of the plane. ‘Talia opens the hatch just as the plane lurches to the side again, and Bucky almost vomits. Shit, this is going to be a rough landing. And Steve’s grabbing the pilot, who is nearly unconscious, trying to help him pull on the parachute, and there’s not going to be enough time because the ground is rushing at them faster than seems possible and Steve is  _ still not ready to jump- _

 

“Steve!” he yells above the din. “Get your goddamn parachute on!”

 

“I’ve gotta save him!”

 

Panic starts to swirl low in Bucky’s stomach. “You’ve gotta save yourself, you idiot!”

 

“I’m fine! Go now, Buck!”

 

Steve’s an utter, complete fucking asshole, but he’s right. There’s no time to argue. The others have already jumped out of the hatch and are falling toward the forest. Bucky looks at Steve one last time, committing his face to memory, and jumps.

 

It’s been a while since he’s done this. He thinks the last time was back in ‘98, a jump onto a naval vessel that nearly snapped his tibia. He remembers running that mission with jaw clenched, trying not to let the pain or handicap affect him. It’d been rough, but he’d gotten through it without another scratch and without alerting anyone on the ship to his presence. And by the end of it, he’d mostly healed up anyway. Thank goodness for the serum-

 

_ Shit.  _

 

Maybe Steve had been right. Maybe he has no business being out here.

 

But no, Bucky himself had had a valid point, too. Clint and Natalia do this all the time without any enhancements, and if they can handle it, so can Bucky. 

 

Then he hits the trees, still going too fast, and rethinks every life choice he’s ever made. Starting with the fact that he should’ve jumped sooner. Damn his alpha to hell.

 

The branches scratch his face, bust up his uniform in several spots, and then he nearly hits the trunk before crashing into the rough ground. He hears something snap in his right arm as he does - the arm he needs to be able to shoot a rifle that he doesn’t have,  _ thanks again, Rogers  _ \- and he no longer has the serum to fix the break. It’ll have to heal the old fashioned way, which means he’s going to be out for a while. Assuming he makes it through this, of course.

 

Bucky tries to focus on something - anything - else so that he can ignore the pain and take stock of his other injuries. His right thigh is sore but intact, and it seems like the kevlar uniform soaked up a lot of the damage. The only real problems are the break in his arm and the lack of a decent weapon… though he does have a pistol in one of his pockets, and one of the benefits of his new left arm is its steadiness. He couldn’t miss with this thing even if he wanted to.

 

But all this means that if he wants to be useful, he’ll have to be in the midst of the fighting, and the team just might need him to be. And now he can’t use one of his arms.

 

Oh, Steve is going to have an aneurysm. 

 

Well, at this point, there’s nothing for it. He needs to at least find the rest of the team - and Steve,  _ please _ let Steve be okay. Then they’ll go from there.

 

He’s a good three miles away from Clint’s position, and Steve - damn him all to  _ hell  _ \- hasn’t checked in with the team by the time Bucky meets up with his teammate. He’s sore and tired and utterly terrified for his alpha, but he’s also pretty sure he’d know it if Steve were dead. Some alpha/omega pairings claim that they can sense the death of their other half, and Bucky is inclined to believe it. Even if they’re full of shit, though, he still has to get through this. 

 

Clint helps lead him to Natalia, and by then, Bucky’s in bad shape. His arm hurts so much he’s damn near hallucinating, and that’s in spite of his uncanny ability to ignore pain. He’s limping like the old man he is, and he realizes that no, he was not ready for this mission. Not even close. Steve is going to tear him a new one even as Bucky spends hours every day in the gym to be better prepared next time. Steve certainly won’t let him go on any missions in the foreseeable future, but Bucky  _ will _ be back out here. Eventually. No matter what Steve thinks.

 

They make their way to the wreckage of the plane, moving carefully through the forest, abandoning their plan of attack in the interest of finding their Captain. Iron Man eventually comes through on the comms with bad news - Steve has been knocked unconscious, having jumped from the plane without his parachute. He’s not dead, but his pulse is weak and his skin is ashen. And there’s still another several miles to go before they reach the site, though Tony is there with him, at least.

 

“You look like hell,” Natalia eventually tells Bucky, helping him step through the garden of pine needles that litters the forest floor. 

 

He grunts as a fresh spike of pain runs up his spine. “Yeah, well, I just found out my alpha might be dying. So…” 

 

“Don’t worry. If he’s alive now, he’ll stay that way.”

 

Bucky sighs, the lack of sleep and the weight of yesterday’s events catching up with him. “I hope you’re right.”

 

“Of course I’m right. He’s Steve,” ‘Talia scoffs as she pulls ahead of him, leaving him to handle the limp on his own. Bucky feels like he’s going to fall over by the time she beckons to him, knocking a branch out of the way to reveal the downed plane, where pieces of the wreckage are still on fire.

 

All of Bucky’s exhaustion vanishes when he catches sight of his alpha, far across the other side of the plane in the large clearing made by the crash. He runs, knowing how stupid he must look, limping like he is, but there is nothing -  _ nothing _ \- in the world that can keep him away from Steve in this moment. 

 

He’s breathing hard with a cramp in his side when he finally slides through the mess of dirt and pine needles and falls to his knees at Steve’s side. Steve’s awake now, looking up at him with a slightly amused expression on his face, one that turns to concern when he notices the way Bucky’s holding his arm. 

 

“I’m fine,” they both say at the same time, and Stark snorts from behind them. 

 

“I can’t believe the two of you sometimes,” he says. “If you’re okay, we need to get you into cover. And now that you’re here, Buckaroo, I need to get back in the air, see if I can scope out the base and whether or not it’s the same place the missiles came from. You gonna be good?”

 

“I’m always good, Stark,” Bucky says, and he can practically hear Tony’s eyes rolling as he lifts off into the sky.

 

“We’ll give the two of you some privacy,” Natalia says from off to the side. 

 

As soon as she turns to walk away, the trees about three hundred feet to their left start to shake, and about a dozen men dressed in tac gear come waltzing out of the woods like they own the place. They look intimidating, moving like men who have seen enough combat to know how to handle themselves.

 

Steve curses and stands up on wobbly legs. He and Bucky support each other as they drag one another to the other side of the plane, away from their enemies. They manage, but Steve gets shot in the calf and wails. It’s not the first time he’s been hit during a mission, and it certainly won’t be the last, but Bucky’s pretty sure that he’ll have nightmares about that sound for a long time. The fact that they’re mortal never really occurred to him before, even though he understood it on an intellectual level. But now that he’s no longer a super soldier, it’s become entirely too real.

 

The two of them kneel behind the plane; ‘Talia and Clint have disappeared into the forest behind them and are systematically picking off their enemies. Bucky pulls out his pistol left-handed and wields it like the professional he is. Steve throws the shield and knocks out his fair share of them, but there are simply too many, and he and Bucky are just too weak. Soon, they’re swarmed by five or six tough-looking guys who, together, are able to manhandle them. And there’s no sign of Natalia or Clint.

 

Bucky yells into his comm for Iron Man, but gets no answer there, either. They really need Bruce right about now, but he was indisposed, and they’d thought this would be a rather simple in-and-out operation. 

 

Boy, were they wrong.

 

One of the men grabs Bucky by his broken arm and he screams, which earns the man holding onto Steve’s torso a broken back for his trouble. The rest of the men leave their destroyed comrade lying on the ground in agony, chuckling as they pick up Bucky and Steve and begin carrying them in the direction of the compound. They’re not careful with Bucky’s arm or his leg, and it’s not long until he passes out in agony, only vaguely aware of his mate sounding more like a feral animal than a human being.

 

***

 

Steve’s mad - livid, really - when he walks into Bucky’s hospital suite at the Tower. As soon as he sees Bucky, though, his face softens like he just can’t help it. And he supposes he can’t, not after all they’ve been through. He can only hold on to so much anger when it comes to Bucky before he has to drop it like a hot potato.

 

Bucky’s asleep at the moment; he’d awakened on the ride back to New York, but only for a few seconds. Like he knew his alpha had gone fully feral and fought his way through a pack of tough guys to save him, and needed to make sure Steve knew he was all right. 

 

_ God, _ Steve loves him more than anything in existence. 

 

He dozes lightly at Bucky’s bedside until his enhanced hearing picks up the tiniest movement. He opens his eyes to find Bucky blinking blearily at him. 

 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Bucky slurs.

 

“Wow. My omega almost dies, and the first words he says to his alpha are ‘I don’t wanna hear it.’ Not feelin’ the love here, Buck.”

 

“Fuck you, Rogers.” 

 

Steve snickers, feeling fondness creep over him in a cloud, drowning out what’s left of the anger he’d felt when he first walked into the room. “Fussy omega.”

 

Bucky grumbles, scowling at him. “Just because I’m an omega doesn’t make me weak. And I didn’t almost die.”

 

“Never said you were weak. Hell, Bucky, you’re the strongest person I know. But you have to admit, that was a close call.”

 

Bucky doesn’t seem like he knows what to say to that, so he stays silent. And he’s blushing and staring at his hospital gown because Steve can’t stop smiling at him. 

 

“You know, you were right,” Steve finally tells him.

 

“About what?” 

 

“Going with us.”

 

Bucky’s head snaps up as he looks at Steve, surprised. His mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he pulls himself out of his state of shock. Steve’s still smiling, though it’s tighter and sadder now.

 

“I… don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect you to say that. I thought you were gonna yell at me.”

 

“Yeah, I did, too,” Steve admits. “But I couldn’t. You were there, in front of me, and I just - you looked so peaceful sleeping like that, like you’d done something right and good that matched who you are on the inside. And you did. Your being there probably saved my life, because when you fell unconscious, I absolutely lost it. Without you, who knows where I’d be now?”

 

And Steve had. He’d lost it like never before. Steve had torn a man limb-from-limb, and had been so bloody by the time Nat and Clint caught up to him that his uniform was destroyed. And Steve barely remembers any of it; all he’d felt was the knowledge that he had to protect Bucky. This, too, is a source of contention between them - Steve’s insistence on protecting his omega, and Bucky’s insistence that he doesn’t need protecting. And both are, ironically, true.

 

Bucky still doesn’t seem to know what to say, so he just mumbles “Fuckin’ punk,” which makes Steve laugh and shake his head. 

 

“Never change, Buck,” he says softly as he leans in and kisses Bucky’s temple. Bucky snorts, but leans up to kiss him anyway, pulling him down with the metal arm hooked around his neck. Steve doesn’t allow it to get too intense; Bucky needs rest, and lots of it. His omega whines when Steve pulls back, but Steve’s low, contented hum manages to soothe him. In no time, he’s out like a light once more. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/165122304@N07/43364458770/in/dateposted-public/)

 

***

 

Bucky’s kept under observation for eight days. By the third, he’s grumbling about only having a  _ broken arm and a bone bruise, thanks, but I can fucking walk my ass out of here right now, _ but the doctors still want him here for observation. By the end of his hospital stay, even Steve is sick of the doctors’ dramatics. 

 

“Why is he still here?” he demands of the primary doctor, a man unfortunately named Dr. Butkiss. “He’s perfectly fine. As he’s stated numerous times, a kid could get hurt like this playing on the playground and be back out there the next day.”

 

“Oh, oh, excuse me, Captain Rogers, sir, I apologize.” The doctor maneuvers his way around Steve’s huge body, unperturbed. “We’re running tests to see if perhaps his last heat had been due to a natural phenomenon. We want to be sure he’s protected as best he can be in the field.”

 

Damn. _ Damn _ . It’s a good thing Bucky’s asleep in the next room, because if he’d heard that he’d be on his feet and decking Dr. Ass-kiss in half a second. Hell, Steve’s half-inclined to do it himself.

 

“So you’re telling me,” he starts in a deceptively calm voice, “that you are running experiments on him without neither his consent nor mine?”

 

“You’d discussed it with Banner.”

 

“Discussing it is not the same as agreeing to it.”

 

“I understand and apologize, Captain Rogers. Simple miscommunication.”

 

He’ll have words for his teammates and the higher-ups at the rebuilt SHIELD, but right now, Steve just wants to get Bucky home. 

 

“Well, he’s been here long enough. I’m taking him to the suite. If you need something else from him, you go through Banner or Stark, and then you goddamn get consent from either me or Bucky. Got it?”

 

The doctor still seems unconcerned about the fact that Captain America is in his face, or at least anyone other than either Steve, Bucky, or Natasha would think so. The dilated pupils and increase in respiration rate tell another story, though.

 

_ Good,  _ Steve thinks.  _ He’d better be afraid of me. _

 

That, followed by:  _ Jesus, I can be a real asshole sometimes. _

 

The thing about Steve is that he’s not perfect. He’s just Steve Rogers, a kid from Brooklyn too dumb not to run away from a fight. Sure, like most other men - or so he hopes - he always has good intentions, but he’s still a human being. So sue him if he gets upset with someone messing with his omega. Alphas and omegas had evolved to protect each other at all costs. That’s what it means to be human.

 

They let him take Bucky, who’s curled up so adorably, Steve isn’t sure he even wants to pick him up. When he does, it feels just like it did a week or so ago as Bucky wakes up and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, making Steve smile down at him, unable, as always, to look away.

 

Bucky’s in a cast that he won’t be able to take off for a couple of weeks, even with Stark’s nanotechnology aiding the healing process, the same as it is for Clint or Natasha when they get into a scrape. Or Sam, on the rare occasions he takes a break from the VA to ride out with them.

 

Bucky allows him to dote a little bit, a fact for which Steve is immensely grateful. Bucky is and has always been perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but it makes Steve feel better to have the opportunity, so Bucky puts up with it. Mostly. 

 

Once Steve has Bucky curled up in bed, though, Bucky wants to get handsy. Hand-y. As much as he can with just one arm, which is kind of cute and kind of pathetic all at once. He runs his fingers down Steve’s arm while Steve gives him a slightly bemused look. 

 

“Don’t you wanna sleep, Buck? You were up pacing all last night and yelling since they wouldn’t let you go.”

 

“Yeah, but c’mon, Steve, I want you. Haven’t had you in a week. You have any idea how hard that is?”

 

Yes, Steve does, actually. 

 

“I want you to heal and be healthy, and you can’t do that on twenty minutes of sleep. Not anymore.”

 

Bucky scowls, but his fingers keep teasing their way down his forearm to tangle with Steve’s own. Steve grips him tightly and sighs, content. Bucky must be tired, because he doesn’t argue about fooling around right now. But he does end up asking the thing Steve had hoped he wouldn’t.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/165122304@N07/44267231705/in/dateposted-public/)

 

“Why’d they keep me there so long? I know it wasn’t because of my damn arm. Even if they were concerned about my reaction to being… well, mortal.” 

 

“You were technically mortal before.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I… huh.” Now that he thinks about it, he isn’t sure. He bleeds like anyone else, even if he doesn’t get sick. Assuming the serum stays in his system and doesn’t just fade away, he’ll probably need to be killed by a wound of some kind. “Yeah, we’re mortal, Buck. Just harder to kill.”

 

Bucky grunts, noncommittal. “I suppose. We’re not mutants. Like Deadpool or something.”

 

“But there’s a small possibility we could heal anything even after ‘death.’ Not sure I want to find out.”

 

“You will someday, though.”

 

Steve nods and closes his eyes, not wanting to go down this road. “And you will, too.”

 

“Steve,” Bucky says earnestly, sitting up to look at Steve’s face. “I didn’t do this because I want to leave you. You know that, right?”

 

“God, of course I do, Buck. But you can’t stop me worrying about you. You’ve never been able to stop me, and obviously you’re more vulnerable now than before. You’re my… you’re… shit,” he curses, feeling his eyes start to burn with unshed tears. “It was your decision, and I honored it. But I don’t want to think about some of the consequences, okay? I just want to be with you right now.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky says softly. “Okay. But I need to know - what were they doing?”

 

“Testing to see why your heat came on like it did.”

 

Bucky’s face scrunches up with anger and frustration, just like Steve knew it would. “Of course they did that. Never occurred to them to ask for permission?”

 

“Miscommunication. They thought they’d gotten it from Banner.”

 

Bucky rubs his metal palm over his face. “Fine.” Neither of them think Banner would go behind their backs for something like that. It probably was a simple error in communication. 

 

“C’mere.” 

 

Steve scoops Bucky up into his arms, being extra careful with the cast. He throws his left leg over Bucky’s and wraps his left arm around his back, pulling him in tightly. One kiss to Bucky’s forehead is all it takes before his omega is asleep.

 

***

 

Steve wakes up with his cock surrounded by the tight heat of Bucky’s mouth. It’s the first time Bucky’s ever done anything like this, and Steve figures he must be desperate… but he’s not going to complain. Not when Bucky is swallowing Steve’s alpha cock almost down to the root,  _ Jesus. _

 

He runs his fingers through Bucky’s long strands, hanging on for dear life as Bucky does something absolutely filthy with his tongue that has Steve gasping for air and arching off the bed. Then Bucky’s moving down further to mouth at his balls and perineum, tonguing so close to his hole Steve can feel his hot breath. They rarely make it this far when Bucky sucks him, because Steve is a little uncomfortable with it (though he has no problem eating Bucky out), but this time, he decides to let Bucky have his fun. Eight days cooped up with nothing more than a broken arm has definitely put him in a frenzy. At least Steve’s been able to run and punch things. 

 

Including and especially the man responsible for putting Bucky in this position. 

 

Steve tosses his head back as Bucky’s tongue opens him up. The firm, smooth muscle inside him feels like warm, wet silk. It feels like electricity flying up his spine as Bucky manages to lick deep enough into him to have him desperately gasping for air. He pulls roughly at Bucky’s hair, unable to let go, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, even moans hot against Steve’s perineum. 

 

Bucky does like it when Steve gets a little rough with him, like most omegas do. Especially when Steve throws his real weight around, though now he’ll have to be careful, given that Bucky isn’t able to take Steve the way he used to.

 

He doesn’t want to think about that now. He wants to revel in the feel of his omega, worshipping him from between his legs, wants to give Bucky everything he can take and take everything Bucky has to give. 

 

Steve pulls on his hair to stop him when Bucky moves back to his hard cock. If he’s not careful, he’ll come too quickly, and Steve really, really wants to come inside Bucky right now. It’s almost compulsive, the way he feels it, the bone-deep desire to come and come and come while Bucky just  _ takes it. _

 

_ Fuck. _

 

Like a wild animal, Steve grabs Bucky by the shoulders and flips him onto his back, using his super strength to pull off the move from a sitting position. Bucky gasps and stares at him, eyes wide with awe and pupils blown with desire. Soon he’s already buried himself inside Bucky, balls-deep in half a second even as Bucky cries out with the adjustment. 

 

Steve pulls air through his nose like he’s just run a marathon, doing everything he can to hold off his orgasm. Jesus, but Bucky’s so fucking  _ tight. _ Bucky’s always been tight, even during his heats when he’s slick as hell. He wants to drill Bucky into the mattress, but because of the arm and because Bucky’s no longer a super soldier, he forces himself to hold back and slowly work up to a rougher fucking.

 

At least that’s the plan, but Bucky is having approximately  _ none of that shit. _

 

“The fuck is this?” he asks as Steve gently rocks his hips back and forth.

 

“What do you mean?” Steve leans down to kiss him, but he pulls away, leaving Steve confused and motionless. 

 

“I  _ mean _ , I’m not made of goddamn glass. Fuck me like you mean it.”

 

“Buck, I’m not gonna-”

 

“ _ Fuck me _ , Rogers, or so help me God, I’ll find someone else to do it.”

 

Goddamn Bucky Barnes, pulling shit like that. He knows full well the effect his attitude will have on Steve, and he’s not wrong, because Steve gets  _ mad _ , and when Steve’s mad, he fucks like it’s the last time he’ll ever fuck. He folds Bucky in half, lifting his legs by the ankles and throwing them over his shoulders. Bucky’s face contorts at first, surprise and delight and discomfort all at once, before it relaxes with the pleasure and stays there for the remainder of their joining. It doesn’t take long, either, because Steve just lets go and pounds his omega for all he’s worth. 

 

“You want it hard? Huh? You like this? You wanna be my good boy? My good little omega?” he pants, barely aware of what’s even coming out of his mouth, it feels so good like this. Bucky is completely and utterly helpless underneath him - fuck, it’s so perfect,  _ he’s _ perfect, stretched out like a dream around him. Steve comes so fucking hard, he can’t keep himself from falling on top of poor Bucky, whose incredulous  _ oof _ sound makes Steve laugh weakly.

 

He forces himself back onto his hands, taking his weight off Bucky, and nuzzles his nose. Bucky starts to shiver underneath him, the way he does sometimes when the sex is really intense, or when Steve spews enough filth, both of which he’s done today. He wraps him up in his arms and kisses all over his face, grinning at the put-upon stare Bucky gives him.

 

“Morning, sunshine.”

 

“Morning, you nutcase.”

 

Steve has the feeling it’s going to be a great day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some medical horror and descriptions of torture and experimentation in this chapter. It's not something I would consider over the top, but YMMV. Feel free to skip if you have any concerns.

 

Two weeks pass under ideal conditions. No aliens decide to attack Earth, no dastardly villains try to take over the world (or destroy it), and no other major catastrophes of any sort require the Avengers’ aid. Bucky is free to heal without worrying about himself or Steve.

 

Despite Steve’s insistence that he shouldn’t, Bucky starts training, even with his arm in a cast. Every time Steve watches him walk into the gym, he sighs in resignation. Bucky always gives him his most winning smile, which then causes Steve to soften and stare lovingly, practically drooling like a fool. Bucky admits it’s sort of adorable. The rest of the team has taken to rolling their eyes as soon as Bucky shows up. It’s like clockwork.

 

On the two-week anniversary of his release from the hospital, Bucky attends for a follow-up appointment. The doctors hem and haw, whispering in the other room too quietly for Bucky to hear. He feels just fine, ready to take the cast off, in fact, and opens his mouth to say so just as Tony walks in.

 

“Hey, partner,” he says casually, sitting right next to Bucky on the medical table. Bucky not-so-subtly shifts away a little and eyes Tony sideways.

 

“Uh…”

 

“Bet you’re wondering why I’m here. Well, wonder no more! I wanted to come and ask you in person, despite the fact that I am a very important man with very important things to do, if you would be willing to let them take some blood again.”

 

Interesting that Stark himself would be willing to come down for such a simple question. Usually, the only time he’s this nice is when he wants to apologize for something.

 

“What did you do,” Bucky asks, so flatly that it’s more of a statement.

 

Hands flail as Tony throws a mini-fit. Or, rather, acts like himself. It’s hard to tell sometimes. “ _Moi_? I didn’t do anything. Well, not this time around, Barnes. Just… Will you trust me and let the docs look at you? I’ll give you a lollipop or something.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Oh, well, in that case, I’m sold!” he says sarcastically.

 

“Good, it’s settled.” Tony moves to put his hand on Bucky’s knee, then thinks better of it. Solidarity with a fellow omega is normal. Solidarity with the world’s most dangerous assassin is maybe not such a great idea.

 

Bucky watches confusedly as Tony’s hand moves back into his lap. “You’re actin’ funny.”

 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a weird guy. But sorry, gotta run! You need Steve to hold your hand? I can call him.”

 

Bucky growls. “I don’t need Steve for anything, asshole.”

 

Tony throws up his hands again and hops down from the table, then backs out of the room. “Alright, alright. Don’t say I never did anything for you, though. Catch you later, Murder Gator!”

 

Well, that was a whirlwind. Bucky’s still reeling a bit when it occurs to him that he would actually prefer it if Steve were here for this. Being examined by a doctor is bad enough; being stuck with needles and goodness knows what else is a whole ‘nother level. But he can handle it. He’s not a fucking child.

 

Doesn’t stop him from shaking as the doctors grab his arm and puncture his vein.

 

It’s over quickly, though, and before long, Dr. Butkiss is shooing him out of the medical unit. The calculating look he gets from the doctor makes him forget about his arm entirely.

 

***

 

Two days later, Bucky discovers why that situation had rubbed him the wrong way, why it seemed like everyone was acting so strangely.

 

He’s healing. In fact, he’s _healed._

 

Steve walks into medical as Bucky’s waiting to get his cast removed and gives him the confused puppy-dog look.

 

“Before you ask, I don’t know,” Bucky grumbles.

 

“Wasn’t gonna ask,” Steve lies as he sits on the gurney, like some sort of parody of Tony from the other day, only this time, Bucky lets his guest set a hand on his knee. “But I hear Stark and Banner are on their way down.”

 

“Yeah, but what does that mean?” Bucky wonders aloud. He thinks he knows full well what it means, unfortunately. For now, he’s going to hope against hope that it’s not true.

 

“I’m guessing we’re about to find out.”

 

Bucky leans his head on Steve’s shoulder, enjoying the proximity of his alpha. He hates to admit it, but he _does_ need Steve - he calms Bucky down just by being in the same room. Even before all the torture and murder, Steve was Bucky’s rock; the scent of him was the only thing that could get Bucky to sit his ass down, high-strung as he was. Now, he’s less high-strung and more outright volatile, but the effect is the same. What makes such - in his opinion - a pathetic need acceptable is that Steve needs him just as much. From what Bucky can gather, Steve had been a mess from the day the old Bucky Barnes died at the bottom of that ravine until Bucky finally came in from the cold. He’s settled down, too, at least as much as Steve Rogers is ever going to settle.

 

Bucky huffs a laugh as he reminisces about it all. His memory is still spotty a lot of the time, feeding him bits and pieces that sometimes don’t make much sense, but every now and then one will hit him like a brick to the face. Smells, sounds, the way Steve had felt pressed against him, or inside him, or how he’d looked in the sunlight, wavy blond hair framing his face like an angel.

 

This memory comes from before either of them had presented. Bucky knew, even then, how badly he wanted to belong to Steve, and had a feeling deep in his gut that it would work out that way, but he hadn’t known for certain yet. And Steve had never shown much interest in the fairer gender, but on this particular day, he’d been getting along well with a girl for once. And Bucky had been green, chock-full of jealousy for this dame who’d dared to lay a hand on Steve’s shoulder and ask him to dance.

 

He’d faked an emergency then, running right past the two of them on the dance floor in the direction of the bathroom. Steve had, predictably, come running right behind him, and he’d had to force himself to throw up just so Steve believed him. Steve had apologized profusely to the girl before taking Bucky home. Bucky had felt a tiny speck of guilt, but that was mostly gone by the time Steve was doting on him, placing a cool washcloth on his forehead and looking at him with his concerned-puppy face. Bucky has no idea what they’d have done if they’d presented differently - maybe defied the laws and gotten together anyway, at least if he’d had any say in the matter - but thankfully, Steve had presented as an alpha the following month, and Bucky followed him as an omega two months after that.

 

It takes a while for Bucky to come back to reality, and when he’s no longer lost in thought he realizes Steve’s been humming to himself while they wait. He’d settled closer to Bucky, side-by-side, and started nuzzling his long hair. Bucky pushes at him playfully, then jumps off the bed and starts to pace.

 

“Why’s it taking them so long?” he asks, and Steve just shrugs.

 

“Hell if I know. We could lie down, if you want.”

 

Bucky’s eyebrows climb. “Think that’s a good idea in here?”

 

“What?” Steve asks innocently. “I can keep my paws to myself.”

 

“Paws,” Bucky repeats, testing the word out. “Yeah, you’ve got paws, alright. Like a wild animal sometimes.”

 

“I’m an alpha,” Steve responds with a shrug, as if that’s an excuse for being the world’s biggest horndog.

 

“You’re a pain in my ass, is what you are.”

 

“Well, in that case, I’m either doing my job extremely poorly or extremely well.”

 

God, Bucky loves Steve, but nobody else on Earth understands just how much of a shit Captain America can be. Well, maybe not Captain America, but at least the guy that plays him on TV.

 

Stark finally walks in with Banner trailing behind. They both appear troubled, which makes Bucky tense up from tip to toe.

 

Steve jumps off the table and finds his way to Bucky’s side in an instant, sensing - and scenting - his tension. “What’s going on?” he asks Stark as they eye the two of them.

 

It’s Bruce who clears his throat. “We think that maybe something happened.”

 

“... Like?”

 

“Well, we checked your blood repeatedly after the de-seruming process, and the procedure appeared to have worked. Your DNA changed entirely. There was no doubt in my mind that you’d been successfully de-serumed.”

 

“But?” Steve asks, and Bucky smacks his arm; he can speak for himself, thank you.

 

“Your arm is healed, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, dread filling his belly. “Pretty sure it is. They’re taking off the cast to double-check, but… yeah.”

 

Bruce nods as if this was to be expected. “Your DNA has changed back. The serum is still in your blood. Or in your blood again, we’re not sure which. Or how,” he adds.

 

A wave of disappointment washes over Bucky, though he tries to hide it. Only Banner is unaware, though; Steve would obviously know just from Bucky’s body language, never mind his scent, and Tony is an omega himself.

 

Stark approaches Bucky, raising a hand as if to pat his shoulder, and thinks better of it again. Bucky can’t help but be touched - figuratively - by the fact that Tony obviously wants to comfort him. Come to think of it, he’s acted that way ever since Bucky fell out during the mission several weeks ago. He doesn’t like to be paranoid, but there’s gotta be a reason Stark’s behavior toward him has changed.

 

“Okay, so… what are we doing here? I need a plan moving forward,” Tony says, doing his best to seem earnest and instead sounding manic. “Are we going to try it again?”

 

Steve looks at Bucky, communicating wordlessly: _It’s up to you._ Bucky’s pretty sure that Steve is happy, or at least relieved, about the development, but he’s hiding it well if it’s true. There’s barely any scent from him.

 

“Yeah, I want to try it again,” he says dejectedly, figuring the results will likely be the same, but willing to try anything. “Can you optimize the process?”

 

“The process worked, we’re positive of that,” Bruce says, rubbing the back of his neck. “What we may need to do is de-serum you on a regular basis, which is not something I’m sure you want to go through. But it’s your choice, of course.”

 

Pondering the way the light glints off his metal arm, garish in the stale atmosphere, Bucky takes a moment to respond. _Does_ he want to go through that repeatedly? It’d been exhausting, even without the emotional impact. Steve had been all worried-puppy, with the furrow between his brows deeper than they’d been in a while. Both of those would be tough to deal with on a regular basis.

 

“Let’s plan to do it at least once more, and see what happens after that,” he finally says, and Stark and Banner tell him to be ready in two days.

 

He’s melancholy getting the cast off, though Steve is there the entire time, hanging on to him like a goddamn barnacle, sensing his omega’s distress. Bucky watches him unobtrusively as Steve holds his metal hand in his own, staring at it, seemingly lost in thought. The hard lines of his face stand out, the sharp jaw and slightly crooked, narrow nose. There’s nothing in the world that can come close to how beautiful his sweet, overprotective Steve is.

 

 _It’s okay, Steve_ , he thinks, wishing he could project his thoughts into his scent as well as Steve can, because what he’s putting out into the world doesn’t always match what’s in his head. _It is what it is. We’ll try again._

 

He keeps his mouth shut, though, and allows Steve to dote on him for the remainder of the evening, making him dinner and coaxing Bucky’s head into his lap while they watch a documentary about penguins on television. Bucky lets Steve run his fingers through his long hair, lets him scratch his scalp like a lost kitten in need of comfort, though he’s far from such a thing. But it makes Steve feel better, and if Bucky’s being honest with himself - which is only sometimes, to be fair - it makes him feel better, too, even if he doesn’t _need_ it.

 

At three o’clock in the morning, they get the call to assemble.

 

***

 

The warehouse-slash-manufacturing plant they’re seeking is in a nondescript section of Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras. It’s one of several industrial buildings in a row. When Bucky jumps from an adjacent rooftop and lands on the building, his face scrunches up  in disgust.

 

Dog food. The place manufactures fucking _dog food_.

 

 _This is the kind of thing non-supers don’t get_ , he thinks, feeling slightly nauseous. _I can’t un-smell this now._

 

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, the team is in place and ready to push through. It’s just Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Tony. Bruce had hung back once more; Bucky’s starting to think he’s been begging off on purpose. Thankfully, this should be another simple operation, though the last time he’d thought that, he’d gotten his damn arm broken and Steve had nearly died. And Bucky had been wallowing so deeply in guilt that it only occurred to him several days later that _Steve had nearly died,_ the idiot. Saving someone else, of course. He hopes to high heaven there are no civilians involved in this operation so he can _keep his mind on the job._

 

After several minutes of silence, Steve gives the signal to move. Bucky quietly climbs his way down the escape hatch while Steve and Natasha infiltrate the ground floor. All Bucky can hear is the sound of his own breathing as he climbs through the ducts, until Natasha gives the all-clear through the comm line. She and Steve move to the second floor, where they meet Bucky, who’s just jumping down from the vent in the ceiling.

 

“Looks like your typical manufacturing plant,” Nat tells him. “The offices should be up here. I don’t know what’s on the third floor, though. More manufacturing, I’m guessing, or more storage.”

 

“Guess we’ll find out,” Steve says, and signals them to spread out and search.

 

Bucky mostly finds what he expects: office equipment, little cubicles with landline phones, and offices on the outer walls with lovely little windows. Of course the grunts wouldn’t get natural light, just the executives. Typical corporate workplace in every respect.

 

What he does not expect to find, however, is a tall, dark, and wild-looking man cowering in the corner of the human resources office, a man whose disposition unfortunately reminds him of himself after the whole Triskelion fiasco. Before Bucky can even say a word, the man starts begging in lightly-accented English.

 

“Please, don’t hurt me! I’m not one of them, I swear! They threatened me when they found out I wouldn’t go along with their plan. I thought they were gonna shoot me, but they didn’t because, I don’t know, they got tipped off or something. Ran straight outta the building like bats outta hell. Knew that you were coming. Please, god, don’t kill me. I have a family. I didn’t mean to get caught up in this mess, I swear. I swear.”

 

Bucky grunts as the man - an alpha - fills the room with scent. He can smell sweat, shame, and fear, none of which are surprising (or appealing). He’d be terrified, too, if the Winter Soldier casually strode into the room where he’d been hiding. Hell, he gets terrified when the Winter Soldier shows up inside his own head, and he _is_ the goddamn Winter Soldier. As for the shame, well, Bucky’s trying not to carry the old stereotypes along with him from the past, but it’s difficult sometimes. An alpha should be ready to protect himself for his family’s sake, if nothing else, and whimpering in the corner sure as shit ain’t gonna cut it.

 

But maybe he’s been spoiled. After all, his own alpha is the bravest person in the goddamn galaxy, even if he is a self-sacrificing idiot.

 

He struts toward the guy slowly, knowing full well how intimidating he can look, and stares down at him like a god might stare at his supplicants. He holds back a giggle, because that is ridiculous, and Steve would probably give him the disappointed-puppy face for such a thought. Whatever. Steve’s not around right now, and Bucky wants to have a little fun for once.

 

He reaches down and grabs the guy by the collar of his worn-out, smelly shirt; Bucky’s pretty sure the guy hasn’t showered in a good handful of days. The smell reminds him once more of himself after weeks in the wilderness, of both the urban and garden-variety, before he went into heat, went back to Steve, and became a person again.

 

His new friend struggles in his grip, but he’s no match for Bucky’s strength, not even his flesh arm. Bucky slowly, almost _sensually_ brings the other hand to his mouth and pulls off the glove, showing off the metal that glints in the light of the moon. He wiggles the fingers in front of his prisoner, who then pisses his pants, and that is _so_ worth the chewing out he’s gonna get from Steve later.

 

There’s no putting off gathering the team any longer. He rasps “Code yellow” into the comm unit, letting the others know he’s found a live one. While he’s waiting for them to finish their sweep of the second floor, he whistles an ominous-sounding tune and stares glassy-eyed at the prisoner, the Soldier peeking out from behind his eyes. The guy’s reaction is hilarious as he struggles, wide-eyed and terrified. Bucky enjoys every goddamn second of it until his alpha enters the room, Natasha right behind him.

 

Immediately, the scent of disappointment fills the room. Steve doesn’t even have to say anything, the jerk. This time, though, Bucky’s not sorry. Bucky’s done being sorry for using his reputation to his advantage, even if Steve doesn’t share his sense of humor.

 

“Sitrep?” Steve asks.

 

“Found him in the corner cowering like a baby. Says he has a family, and had nothing to do with whatever’s been going on here.”

 

Steve, standing on his left, looks at him then, and projects all the disappointment he’s feeling into his glare. Bucky just rolls his eyes. Goddamn Steve.

 

“So you decided to have fun with him, is that it?”

 

The man’s still panicking, gaze wildly darting back and forth between the two of them, the scent of his fear overpowering in the room despite Steve’s best efforts to outdo it in intensity. It appears he’s even more terrified now that there are two super soldiers standing in front of him, which Bucky also finds hilarious, considering that Steve’s trying his hardest to dress Bucky down like a schoolmarm.

 

“What else am I gonna do, Stevie?” he pleads with a shit-eating grin on his face that doesn’t match the tone of his voice. “Give him your stern Captain America glare? You can’t even intimidate your own omega with it.”

 

_That’s it, yeah, poke the bear, Buck. You’re doin’ great, sweetie._

 

Steve does exactly what Bucky wants him to do, firms his jaw and steps in to really give him a stern talking-to, but Natasha interrupts before he can.

 

“Boys, can we do the dick-measuring contests when we get home? We have a job to do here.”

 

Steve forces himself to back off, but Bucky doesn’t stop the grin, nor does he let his little friend go. He turns back to the man, who pisses himself yet again after one second of Bucky’s crazy-eyed gaze. Probably wishes he’d go back to the blank stare. God, this is fun.

 

“We need to know everything you know,” Steve tells him as his nose scrunches. The smell of dog food on top of urine is, admittedly, somewhere miles beyond unpleasant.

 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Of course. Jesus god help me I don’t wanna die,” the guy babbles, making Natasha roll her eyes as she moves forward to stand next to Bucky. He turns his grin to her, which only makes her do it even more.

 

“We’re not gonna kill you,” Steve says, “but we will be bringing you to SHIELD’s base of operations for additional questioning. In the meantime, we need to know the short version, at least.”

 

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you. Just… put me down, please.”

 

Bucky drops him a foot to the floor. He staggers, then falls, sitting on his ass like he’s unable to continue standing. He probably is, considering the utterly pathetic level of his fear. Bucky wants to have more fun first, but of course Steve would act put-upon and might actually stop him from doing so. He grumbles and moves back, letting Steve kneel to get in the guy’s face himself.

 

“Tell me,” Steve commands, and the guy spills everything he knows like it’s a compulsion.

 

Apparently, whoever runs the smuggling operation also legitimately owns a dog food company, hence the smell of actual fucking dog food. Bucky briefly and only half-jokingly considers stealing some for Steve’s puppy faces, and has to hold back from snickering once again. They are also running pharmaceuticals - of what type, their prisoner has no idea, he _swears to god,_ shame overlying the fear scent for a few moments. Their next shipment is scheduled to arrive at a port in two nights. That’s all the guy knows, he _swears to god,_ dammit. Bucky’s inclined to believe him; nobody in their right mind would willingly piss themselves like that. He’s genuinely afraid of, like, _everything_. He doesn’t smell like someone who’s lying, either.

 

“I guess it’s off to Nicaragua,” Nat says before calling it in. They leave the man in SHIELD’s custody and get the hell out of Dodge.

 

Steve’s still so disappointed, he doesn’t even want sex that night.

 

Whatever. It’s the most fun Bucky’s had on a mission in a long time.

 

***

 

The thing about being an alpha is that rescuing one’s omega is a compulsion. It’s not something Steve can _not_ do. Bucky’s distress calls to him like a siren song, and he’s helpless, stumbling along in whatever direction Bucky goes. The only time he’d ignored it was because he’d thought Bucky was dead at the bottom of a ravine, which had turned out to be the biggest mistake of Steve’s life. So even if it weren’t a compulsion, he’d make a conscious decision to do it anyway.

 

The thing about being Bucky’s alpha is that Bucky absolutely hates being his damsel-in-distress, which puts Steve in a tough spot. Because yes, Bucky is more than capable of taking care of himself, thank you, but he’s also constantly getting into trouble through no fault of his own. Even when Steve’s watching him like a hawk during a mission, he ends up needing Steve’s help in some fashion or other. This is why Steve didn’t want him on missions at all during the de-seruming process, not because Bucky’s inept in the field, but because he has the worst goddamn luck of anyone Steve’s ever met, including himself.

 

Nicaragua turns out to be no exception… only this time, Steve’s not in a position to save him.

 

Steve shifts in his bonds, considering the situation. They’d made it to the port under cover of night, he, Bucky, and Natasha going in on foot, with Iron Man and the newly-arrived Falcon in the air, and had managed to stop the shipment, killing or subduing the men responsible. Only, just as they were about to head back to the quinjet with their cadre of prisoners, Bucky and Nat had fallen to their knees, and Iron Man had crashed out of the sky. Steve and Sam had made a valiant attempt to pull them away from the scene, unsure of what had happened to their omega teammates, but before the two of them could pull everyone out, a whole army of mercenaries had shown up at their backs.

 

Now, Steve is a badass, and he’s more than familiar with the fact. He can take down half an army of untrained people before they can lay him out. But he’s only human; there are only so many soldiers he can fight his way through before it’s too much, trained or not, and without three of his teammates, he had gotten captured. They’d put him and Bucky in super soldier-strength manacles, and threw them all in a windowless van.

 

He’d been allowed to sit near Bucky, though Steve couldn’t touch him because his hands were tied behind his back. His three omega teammates had slept fairly peacefully, but Steve had had a bad feeling that wouldn’t be the case for very long. His only solace had been that Sam seemed to have gotten away and would bring help as soon as he could - if he could find them, considering the van had seemed to drive for ages. Then, when they’d stopped, one of the mercenaries had shot Steve with a dart, knocking him unconscious.

 

Which brings him to now. He finds himself strapped to a chair, naked, hands shackled to the armrests. He struggles experimentally, discovering that the chair itself is made of something that might as well be vibranium, or at least something from which no super soldier would be able to wriggle free. The rest of the room registers slowly. When his eyes adjust to the darkness, he sees a thick glass wall in front of him. There’s a similarly darkened room on the other side of it. Analyzing the sound and echo of his breathing, Steve decides the room is about the size of a doctor’s exam room.

 

Several hours pass. He has to piss and he’s thirsty as fuck by the time the lights turn on in both rooms; when they do, he lets out a gasp and feels his heart rate shoot sky-high. Behind the glass wall lies his naked omega, strapped down like Steve is, except he’s horizontal instead of upright, facing the doorway on Steve’s right. Bucky turns toward him, eyes full of fear and anger in equal measure. Even through the bulletproof glass, Steve can smell him from here. The fact that he couldn’t before this moment is somewhat concerning.

 

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he says. He knows Bucky can’t hear him, but he needs to say it anyway. “I’ll get you out of there, I promise.”

 

Bucky knows how to read lips, and gets the message no problem. “C’mon then, Rogers,” he mouths back; Steve imagines that he can hear Bucky’s dry rasp. “Any day now.”

 

Steve narrows his mind down to a single focal point, putting all his concentration into the exercise. He imagines a spiral opening up around it, creating a vortex through which he stuffs as much of his emotional responses as possible, filtering out the worry and confusion and holding on to the confidence. The spiral spins, carrying away everything except for the emotions Steve wants to project. Then he _pushes_ , and his synapses do what he tells them to do, filling the room with the scent that tells Bucky _don’t worry, I’ve got this._

 

Except he _doesn’t_ have this. He has no idea who these people even are, let alone what they want. Or where Iron Man and Widow are. What could’ve already been done to them. Where and when rescue is coming. If help is coming at all.

 

Shit, this is bad. It takes a lot of will to hold back his own fear for the sake of his omega. There’s nothing he can do now but wait anyway. Try to get a feel for the situation they’re in. Definitely not spend time beating himself up for letting Bucky get captured again. Sometimes, he feels like his entire life is made up of disappointing Bucky.

 

Bucky is watching him, staring strangely at him through the glass. It’s likely he can tell at least some of what Steve’s thinking. They know each other better than they know themselves sometimes. The rest of the team finds it a little scary. He personally finds it romantic. Bucky finds it sappy as hell and grumbles at him any time it’s brought up.

 

While he’s lost in thought, a man in a lab coat enters Bucky’s room, dragging a cart behind him. Bucky is facing him, and as soon as he sees the needle and fluid bag on the cart, he starts to panic, attempting to flail about, but accomplishing nothing more than bruising the back of his head on the gurney. His wrists and ankles are tied down tight, just like Steve’s. And when Bucky panics, Steve  does the same, but there is no way he’s getting out of this chair without help.

 

Steve makes a distressed noise as he watches Bucky struggle and hyperventilate in the next room, heart beating like mad in his chest, so loud he can’t hear much else. Even when the man moves closer and Bucky opens his mouth to scream, Steve can hear nothing but the blood rushing through his veins, full of adrenaline and the compulsion to protect Bucky at all costs.

 

The man in the lab coat - doctor, maybe, or more likely a tech - turns a creepy smile Steve’s way and holds up the needle as if on grand display. It’s frighteningly thick, and knowing that that thing’s going _in_ Bucky sets him off even more. He screams in rage this time and does everything he possibly can to move, to budge just a little, but his efforts are fruitless. It’s just not happening.

 

Steve watches in horror as the man turns back to Bucky, who looks as feral as he did on the helicarrier before he’d recognized Steve. He’s breathing hard, and probably hyperventilating; hopefully, he doesn’t cut off the oxygen to his brain, though maybe it’d be better if he passed out for whatever’s coming next. Their captor preps Bucky’s arm, and tears leak from Bucky’s eyes, unbidden. He turns despairingly toward Steve, who stares back, stricken. This is one of Steve’s worst nightmares made manifest: watching Hydra do this to Bucky for years upon years. Sitting ineffectually at his side as they dismantle him, piece by piece.

 

And now it’s reality. First time for him, but Bucky’s been on this playground before. More times than he can probably count, and more than Steve can bear to think about.

 

A voice booms through the speaker system. “Captain Rogers,” a woman says in a voice like silk. She doesn’t sound familiar. _Who are these people_?

 

“Do what you want with me, just let him go.” His throat is dry with terror and dehydration.

 

“Ah, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she responds, sounding genuinely disappointed. “He’s instrumental to our research. As are you.”

 

“What research?” he asks, not sure he wants the answer.

 

“You know, the usual super soldier stuff. We need to understand how you work, how you think. What your triggers are. That sort of thing.”

 

“Trying to recreate the serum again? You know that’s never worked before, and it won’t work for you, either.”

 

“Actually, no. We’re not interested in recreating. Why bother when we can utilize what’s already here.”

 

A million images fly through Steve’s mind. Bucky’s dossier, his face in the cryochamber. The chair, the one they’d found at the bank vault in DC, the one that Bucky had destroyed with extreme prejudice. Other things he’d only imagined, things they’d likely done to Bucky to brainwash him and then keep him in line. Things that this group of assholes would have to do if they intended to use Steve and Bucky like that for any length of time. Things that start with injecting him with heaven-knows-what substance.

 

“So the pharmaceuticals were a cover?” he asks, stalling for time, trying to come up with something, anything - any kind of plan to get out of this mess.

 

“Oh no, not at all. We’re making good use of the drugs, as you can see before you. Got some of Hydra’s best talent here working with us, now that they have no bosses left to snivel at. They knew how to drug your omega up to hell and back already. We’re just making the drugs better.”

 

Steve swallows as he watches the tech in the next room shove that huge needle into Bucky’s vein. Bucky wails in agony, looking like whatever they’re injecting him with hurts even worse than the needle did.

 

He growls at the woman. “Let him go, or you’ll be sorry you were ever born.”

 

“Why, Captain Rogers, we’ve already been over this. Besides, so far you’re acting according to our hypothesized results, so please, keep it up.”

 

“What does that mean?” he asks, bewildered.

 

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

 

“What’s in that bag?”

 

“You’re a smart man,” she says just as the smell of Bucky in heat permeates the room. “You’ll figure it out.”

 

Horror possesses Steve. “It was you, wasn’t it? That did this to him before?”

 

“Indeed. And we only gave him a drop of the stuff.”

 

Steve remembers now, how Bucky had come home a day before that mission with a strange puncture wound on his arm that he didn’t remember receiving. Whoever these people are, they had somehow infiltrated the Avengers and found a way to drug his omega.

 

Steve’s gonna have words with Tony Stark after this. Get some security guards fired, for starters. For now, though, he’s going to have to stop the panic and start thinking his way out of this situation. Preferably _before_ Bucky’s in unbelievable agony.

 

His cock is hard as diamonds, as is Bucky’s; the drugs in the bag have accelerated the start of his heat exponentially, and it looks like Bucky’s already hurting. He can’t move, though, not an inch. His jaw is clenched so tight, Steve’s surprised it hasn’t broken from the pressure. As Bucky turns his head back and forth - _no, no, please_ clear on his lips - Steve recognizes the signs of a flashback, and some part of his brain wonders what Bucky’s seeing. Is it one of the many times they’d tortured him? By the time Zola had come into the fold at SHIELD, Bucky was broken. He’d gone willingly, accepting the pain as his due because he wasn’t a person, just a piece of property. They’d done it for the sheer pleasure of torturing him, nothing more. Or maybe it’s an earlier memory, before the fifties, when they’d tortured things like emotion right out of him. When they _had_ had to hold him down. Maybe he’s remembering when they took the rest of his arm and his shoulder, performing the gruesome surgery without anesthetic.

 

There are so many dark memories in Bucky’s past, it could be any number of them affecting him now. Steve’s not sure what a heat is like for an omega if it’s not consummated; he wonders if this is worse than the flashback, or if Bucky is experiencing everything at once. He’s heard it’s painful, but that concept is relative as far as Bucky Barnes goes. For a long while, pain was his only friend.

 

Jesus _Christ,_ Steve’s cock could cut through _vibranium_ right now. Bucky smells so fucking good, like fresh cut grass and cold stone and memories - cotton candy at Coney Island, gunpowder and lead and the trees they’d hurriedly fucked against on the front. All those things and more comprise what his psyche recognizes as _his_ , and Steve is about to murder someone with his goddamn _mind_ if he can’t get to his omega soon.

 

The bag is done emptying, thank goodness. The lab tech pulls the needle out of Bucky’s arm, pats him on the head like a dog, and exits the room with his equipment. Steve glares after him, but Bucky’s eyes are closed now, his expression blank. He’s dissociating, Steve realizes, and while he usually hates it when Bucky does that, right now it’s a blessing.

 

Steve can’t help but whisper _I’m coming, it’s okay, baby, I’m coming_ on repeat, under his breath, a mantra to help him try to keep it together long enough for… he’s not sure what. If they have to spend days like this, waiting out Bucky’s heat, it’s going to drive him mad. Literally. Already, his very thoughts are developing cracks, breaking apart into meaningless fragments.

 

“ _What are you doing to him_?” he screams at the top of his lungs, not expecting an answer.

 

“Observing, of course. We need baseline data,” the disembodied voice states.

 

“Why?”

 

“Does it matter if I tell you? It’ll only make you more angry, you know.” She sounds amused.

 

Steve grinds his teeth together, trying to hang on as the scent of Bucky’s despair wafts through the air along with the heady scent of his heat. “Why would you do this to us? What psychopath could even imagine putting a bonded pair through this?”

 

The woman sighs, probably realizing that Captain America will needle her until the end of time to get information. It’s a common lesson his enemies have learned throughout the years.

 

“A couple of reasons. One is classified; I’m afraid I can’t give you any information. But we also need to know how you react to your partner’s heat, to see if it would compromise any missions we sent you on. If you’d have to be on separate missions at all times. I’m not expecting him to be drugged like this; in fact, we intend to keep you both chemically castrated, except in cases where you might be tempted to disobey. We can certainly use this as leverage. But just in case someone else has come up with this idea, or if life, as they say, finds a way, it’s important to know how you’ll react. If you can stay functional, either of you.”

 

 _Hey, I got that reference,_ his mind says to him inanely. “How would you even _know_ whether or not we’re functional? We’re strapped down like animals, in case you haven’t noticed.” It’s getting harder for Steve to talk at all, let alone project the hatred he feels for this woman and all her goons.

 

“Oh, we’ve got readings already. Those rooms are outfitted with special equipment. We can scan your brains, no problem. And right now, I’m sensing you’re in quite a bit of distress. Am I right, Captain?” she asks in a sickeningly sweet voice.

 

“You’re a sadist,” he spits, nearly out of breath like he’d just run twenty miles in one go.

 

“Just doing what needs to be done. I’m sure you’re wondering whether you’ll get to take care of your omega soon, no?”

 

That doesn’t even deserve a reply, though Steve is desperately thinking _yes, yes, please let me take care of him._

 

She answers anyway, tone brimming with some sick delight. “The answer is no, I’m afraid. We expect this heat to last a good seven, maybe eight days with the amount we’ve given him. It’s going to be a rough time for you both, Captain. No regular human would be able to withstand this without dying, not in a bonded pair, so I’m sure you can understand just how excited we are. We’ll be in with food and water soon, and you _will_ take care of yourself. If not, we’ll make you.”

 

The line goes quiet, and Steve slumps in his seat. His stomach is covered in come; he’d apparently gotten off untouched because the scent of Bucky is so strong. They’ve probably got scent amplifiers in here, too. He wouldn’t put anything past the bastards.

 

When they come in to feed him, Steve allows it. He doesn’t want to struggle with forced feeding; there’s no way to escape it, and he needs every bit of strength he has. They have to force-feed Bucky, of course, and Steve has no choice but to watch that as well, willing his body to use the calories to fend off not just the physical, but the emotional effects of this torture.

 

Unfortunately, it only takes a few hours for Steve to be completely useless. He’s a disgusting mess of drool and piss and come, but a very small part of his brain bothers to notice. There’s only one thing in his mind right now, one thing that looms larger than life, so important it drowns out everything but the basic bodily functions he needs to stay alive.

 

_Bucky._

  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have very little idea of how AIM actually operates in the comics, and since we haven't seen them in the movies... well, let's just say that if you're a comic reader, consider this WAAAAY AU.

  
  


He flies over the deep blue lakes of Nicaragua, over the waterfalls, mountains, further south above the jungles of South America, over the entire world. The Earth changes from rigid lines, to indistinct shapelessness, then back again as the continents grow more and more clear as time marches on. It’s a slow ascent, like watching evolution unfold; Steve’s not sure from one moment to the next just how things have changed, he just knows that they have. 

 

Bucky’s down there, he knows, in a bunker straight underneath him. He’s oriented not to time or the Earth or the Sun, but to Bucky Barnes, so of course he knows where Bucky is. And Steve is moving farther and farther away from him every second, but he’s stuck here, wherever here is; he can’t do more than lift his hand and reach down for the Earth in a pathetic attempt to beg the universe  _ please, please don’t take him away from me again.  _

 

Jesus, he’s a shit alpha. A shit bondmate. A shit best friend. Why can he never save Bucky? Why does he always reach out for him a second, a minute, a lifetime too late? What good did becoming Captain America ever do him, if he still can’t even save the man he loves more than life itself - his own omega?

 

His heart wrenches in despair. Erskine should’ve chosen someone else, someone more worthy of the serum. Bucky should’ve chosen differently, someone more worthy of  _ him _ . 

 

Steve awakens with a start, pouring sweat, still naked and manacled, and painfully hard. His balls feel heavy; since that first time, when he’d come untouched, he hasn’t been able to get off, and he  _ needs  _ it, even if only by hand. Even if it’s not Bucky’s hand. 

 

It seems he’ll come to regret those words, because, as if on cue, a couple of technicians enter his room. Steve doesn’t even bother to look at them; his eyes are fixed on Bucky, who is once again thrashing from side-to-side. He’s covered in sweat that Steve wants -  _ needs _ \- to lick off him, top to bottom. The scent is unbearable. He imagines sliding into that perfect ass, pumping his hips with all his strength. God, the feel of Bucky, hot and tight and slick around him… fuck, he can’t do this. He can’t  _ do this anymore _ -

 

One of the technicians, a thin wisp of a woman, momentarily shocks him out of his perverted reverie by stepping in his line of sight, blocking Bucky. He growls at her from deep in his chest, and she takes a step back, but doesn’t move out of the damn way.  

 

Another woman, this one not so easily cowed, steps in his view of Bucky and smirks. “Why, Captain Rogers. You should know by now that cooperating is in your best interest.”

 

Steve spits on her, really putting his back into it, or at least as much as he can in this position. Her shark-like grin only widens along with her stance. She moves fluidly, sure within herself; this woman has seen combat, that much is obvious. He tries to give her his best  _ I’m going to kill you  _ face, but that’s hard to pull off when his dick could drill a hole into the center of the Earth. 

 

“That so?” he rasps. “Sure seems like it doesn’t matter a lick what I do here. So why should I cooperate?”

 

_ Because of what they might do to Bucky, obviously _ . And while Steve believes Bucky’s in just as much agony as he is, probably more so, he knows that Bucky has endured far worse, and he doesn’t want history to repeat itself, let alone  _ watch _ it do so. So yeah, he’s going to cooperate, but ‘Sarah Rogers didn’t raise no bitch,’ as Sam is fond of telling him in his more ballsy moments. So he’s gonna push, because that’s just who Steve is.

 

The woman doesn’t answer, just pulls a cup from the pocket of her white scrubs, pulling off  _ I’m bored _ a whole lot better than Steve ever could, even if he’d had acting lessons from the best Hollywood has to offer. 

 

He looks at the cup. It takes him a moment. But then: Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

 

She takes a step toward Steve and then to the side, making sure he gets a good look at his omega laid out on the table like a feast in Heaven, if Heaven were carved out of grass-scented sin. Steve closes his eyes as the woman sits on her haunches and whispers in his ear. 

 

“Look at him in there,” she says, sounding surprisingly soft. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?” Steve is helpless; all he can do is nod, transfixed, even as the rest of the alpha in him wants to murder her. “Mmm, I know. Or at least I know you think that; he’s really not my type, if you catch my drift. But he belongs to you, doesn’t he?”

 

He lets out a helpless noise, a confirmation and a prayer. 

 

“Just think about it, imagine it. Getting between his legs, fucking down into him, feeling him tense and squeeze all around you like a good little omega.”

 

He’s barely even aware of the other technician, the one who’d been scared of him moments before, as she begins to rig a contraption meant to capture his semen. They don’t let him loose, which is good strategy on their parts, but they don’t touch him, either, like this is a purely clinical act for them. However, the woman’s voice in his ear makes goosebumps run up and down his arms. Steve knows it’ll be enough to make him come, and even though the last thing he wants is to give these people a semen sample, at least they aren’t touching him. Raping him. 

 

“That’s it, that’s my boy,” the woman next to him coos as Steve’s cock erupts into the cup. As orgasms go, this one had been mediocre despite his need, and he’s thankful for that. The shame cries out for his attention, but he does his best to ignore it.

 

Beyond exhausted, Steve slumps over once the aftershocks have worn off. Both women have already left the room, having gotten what they came for. Steve is, of course, still hard; that orgasm hadn’t even come close to easing the ache deep inside him.

 

Sobs come then, ugly, gut-wrenching hitches in his breathing, along with hyperventilation that makes him dizzy. All the while, he stares into Bucky’s eyes; Bucky, who’s come untouched a number of times already, who’s even more of a mess than Steve himself. His eyes are glassy, pupils dilated, though Steve’s not sure if that’s due to dissociation, arousal, or the drugs. Probably somewhere between. 

 

Bucky’s tears have long since dried. Steve’s pretty sure that’s a bad sign. 

 

He tries to figure out how long it’s been, turning to his internal clock to figure it out. He’s guessing two days have passed, two days of this torture - another five or six, and Steve’s not sure even the two of them will be able to withstand it. Had Bucky undergone the de-seruming procedure again before they went on this assignment, he’d be dying on that table. 

 

Would they have ended it then? Let Bucky live? Let him die?

 

Steve’s mostly-empty stomach convulses, and whatever little he has in there comes up and dribbles down his chin and onto his belly, warm and rancid in the still air of his exam room. It reminds him of the time when he was sixteen, scrawny and angry and assumed to be a beta; he had gone to the hospital with his ma with a fever over 105. He remembers hearing, even with his partial deafness, the nurses behind the curtain giggling to themselves and whispering that he’d better hope he wasn’t an omega, because no little boy like him would be able to survive a heat, let alone birth - not that male omegas are fertile, anyway. He’d thrown up then, just like he’s doing now, at the thought of someone close to him - or, heaven forbid, himself - dying from a heat. And now he might be staring that death in the face, only this time, it’s not just any omega, it’s  _ his _ . 

 

Time continues to pass slowly, leaving Steve behind in something thick like molasses, slow and syrupy but not like honey, no, more like mud. Like quicksand, and he’s drowning in its depths. He wants to stop breathing, both his aching body and his mind, too, please  _ god _ put him out of this misery, but the serum has other ideas. The serum keeps his heart beating and his breath going steady, even with the lack of proper nutrition and being somewhat dehydrated. His body runs like clockwork, but his mind, that’s another thing entirely.

 

The fever dreams are brought to an abrupt halt as the woman who’d spoken to him before clears her throat over the speaker. Steve is immediately awake and aware, feeling the urge to use the restroom and the drool slowly making its way down his chin. He’s also hyper-aware of the ugly purple cock between his legs, the  _ pound pound pound  _ that rushes through him with every beat of his heart. 

 

“What do you want?” he croaks.

 

“For you to watch,” she says simply, and then the speaker goes quiet and Steve gets goosebumps from head to toe again. The maelstrom of heady desire, anger, and horror he’s felt for the past however-many days comes to a head at this moment, and Steve keens in anguish when the woman walks into the room and Bucky outright screams, throwing his head back and attempting to thrash side-to-side.

 

The woman is tall and thin with deep green eyes, bright red hair, and freckles. She reminds him a bit of Natasha, except that Nat walks with a deadly grace that this woman does not have. A civilian, then. Good. She smiles at Steve through the glass, showing sharp, white teeth that remind him a little bit of a vampire. When she turns the look on Bucky, studying him like one might study a new species, Steve screams again, unable to contain his pain and rage.

 

“Well, Captain Rogers,” she says into a microphone as two new technicians walk into the room wielding more syringes. “I suppose it’s time to tell you about our program, since you’ll both be instrumental in running it.” 

 

The whites of Bucky’s eyes are visible even from here. He’s watching the technicians, both male this time, approach him with their syringes at the ready. 

 

“I’m afraid this little talk will have to be between you and I, though, Captain Rogers. Your omega is in quite a bit of distress. His heart rate and respiration rate are through the roof; we’ll need to give him some drugs to calm him down for a while. You, on the other hand, are fine the way you are. It seems this is much harder on your mate than it is on you. We thank you for the valuable data you’ve already provided for our research.”

 

She steps back like she’s presenting at an exhibition, allowing Steve to see the techs both insert their needles into Bucky’s arm, one after the other. The fight immediately goes out of Bucky; he falls unconscious at once, head lolling to the side, eyelids falling closed so that Steve can’t look into those bright, steel-grey eyes, can’t comfort him in the only manner available to him other than his scent, which no longer hides the terror deep in his bones. 

 

Noticing the look of panic on Steve’s face, the woman speaks up. “Oh, don’t worry. He’ll wake up. I give him a good four hours. That’s four hours you won’t have to spend staring at him like he’s water to a dying man. God, the two of you are pathetic. The time for briefing is upon us, so it’s perfect.”

 

_ Why are you in there with him, then? Why not with me? _ Steve wonders. 

 

He says nothing, feigning apathy. He doesn’t have to feign the tiredness that has seeped into his body, mind, and soul. By all outside estimates, he’s a broken man. And Steve’s not sure if that’d be a correct assessment or not since he can’t see a way out of this situation. 

 

“We’ve got to take him away now, but I promise it’s just for a little while,” she continues, sympathy sketched clearly on her face. She’s a damn good actor, seeming almost genuinely sorry for the two of them. Steve’s not buying it for a second. He’s seen psychopaths in action before, and this villainess is the genuine article.

 

The technicians move to unlock Bucky’s manacles, seemingly unafraid. Underneath his panic, Steve almost wants to cackle hysterically. They  _ should _ be afraid. They’re playing with fire, after all - one of the most dangerous men on the planet. He has no idea why they’re not rolling the gurney out altogether, with Bucky still strapped tightly, but he’s not complaining. Given enough freedom, Bucky will snap out of this for long enough to do some real damage. Maybe even get them out of here.

 

_ Please wake up while they’re moving you. Please.  _

 

“So, would you like to hear about the program? We’re part of an organization called A.I.M., and we’re picking up where Hydra left off, now that you’ve decimated them. We’re going to be bigger, better than Hydra could’ve ever aspired to be. You see, we - “

 

Steve keeps his face perfectly still as he watches his omega’s eyes open just a little. It’s enough to get his heart pumping faster somehow, even though it was already going a thousand miles a minute. He wills it to stand down, since these A.I.M. people are closely monitoring both soldiers. It’s a little paranoid, but Steve’s terrified they’ll figure out what’s going on and shut Bucky down.

 

Their leader drones on, but Steve can no longer hear her over the pounding in his blood. Bucky’s closed his eyes again, and now Steve’s worried that perhaps it had been a hallucination, a cruel joke the universe decided to play, kicking him while he’s down. But no, no - Bucky’s hand twitches just a bit, such a small thing Steve wouldn’t have seen it if he hadn’t been looking for it. Half a second later, one of the technicians is dead from a broken neck; the other, who’d been undoing the latches around Bucky’s ankle, is kneeling in agony by the base of the table, having been kicked in the chest hard enough to crush his heart. He’ll be dead in less than thirty seconds as well.

 

The woman’s next, and she knows it. Steve can see her pupils dilate, her fight-or-flight response taking over, but it doesn’t matter what she does; Bucky’s grabbed the keys from her nearest lackey and unshackled himself by the time she’s made a decision. Surprisingly, she aborts her mission to haul ass and merely stands there by the door, awaiting judgment, perhaps realizing she has no hope of outrunning him.

 

Steve doesn’t like to watch Bucky kill, especially when he’s like this, cold as ice and mean as hell. He’s often unable to even talk to Bucky, and has to let him ride out the Winter Soldier’s resurgence; all Steve can do is watch over him and pray the Soldier doesn’t permanently take over. There haven’t been any signs of that so far; Bucky always comes down from the high just fine, if maybe a little scared himself, but Steve can’t help worrying. He still has nightmares of his omega beating him to a pulp on the helicarrier.

 

This time, though, this time is different. The woman closes her eyes, breathing steadily, trying to enjoy the last few breaths she has. Trying not to cower in her last moments, trying to keep the fear at bay, even as the Winter Soldier stalks toward her. Bucky knows how to strut like a peacock on a normal day, but there’s nothing compared to the way he walks when the Soldier has been awakened. 

 

And Steve is - Steve is  _ aroused. _ He’s fairly certain he’d be aroused even if Bucky hadn’t been forced into heat. 

 

He watches with no little satisfaction as Bucky uses his metal hand to pick up the woman by the neck like she weighs two pounds. She starts to choke and sputter a little, but it’s not enough to cut off her air completely. Bucky just stares at her with empty eyes while she struggles, fruitlessly kicking her legs about. There’s terror in her eyes now; knowing one is about to die is not the same as feeling it happen. Steve knows from experience - he’s walked the line often enough himself. 

 

Bucky, appearing bored despite the desperation in his scent, slowly tightens his hold on the woman’s neck. Her air cuts off for a few seconds, half a minute… then he lets go and she falls to the ground on her knees, sucking in air and gripping her bruised throat. Bucky, naked as the day he was born, covered in bodily fluids, probably feeling sick as a dog, is still the most intimidating person Steve’s ever seen. 

 

“How should I kill you?” he purrs, causing a shiver to run straight up Steve’s spine.  _ Jesus _ , this shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. Steve can’t look away. It’s nothing like a train wreck and everything like watching an angel of vengeance come down to smite evil. And it’s not the heat. It’s  _ not _ . 

 

But it  _ is _ new. And right now, Steve doesn’t have the brainpower to feel shame. He just  _ wants _ .

 

“Tell me, little bird,” he says, kneeling in front of the woman, who’s staring at him with eyes as glassy as his own, clearly in shock. “I might be kind enough to give you the death you desire.”

 

“Please,” the woman whispers in a raspy voice, vocal cords damaged from the squeezing of Bucky’s metal arm. “I just want to live. I’ll leave you alone, both of you. Give you all the information you want. Just let me live.”

 

Bucky laughs - cackles, really - and he sounds like a madman. Steve’s dick could drill through the fucking  _ Sun _ .

 

“Fat chance, sweetheart. I don’t believe you, and I wouldn’t let you go anyway. You ain’t talkin’ to Steve Rogers here.”

 

“How… how are you like this?”

 

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Clearly, you’ve seen my files. You know full well what they did to me.”

 

She slowly shakes her head, trembling with fear but refusing to give in to it. “No, not that. I mean how can you even focus like this? You’re neck-deep in drugs that should’ve killed you by now.”

 

“Well, I’m hard to subdue, sweetheart. Even harder to kill. Thank your Hydra friends for that.”

 

She looks hard at him, trying as hard as she can to remain in control of herself until the moment of her death. “So you were pretending, then?”

 

“To some extent,” Bucky admits. “I learned a lot of tricks during the ten years they tortured everything human out of me.” 

 

“Then if you’re not really human, do your worst,” she says in a trembling voice. “You’ll do it anyway.”

 

“Oh, you don’t want that,” Bucky says. He eyes the syringes that the techs dropped when he’d killed them. “I’d offer you a lethal injection, but that seems a little too nice,” he says, pretending to ponder. Then he shrugs. “Eh, fuck it.”

 

He strikes like a snake, fast and hard and deadly, grabbing the woman by the shoulders and hips and snapping her back over his knee. She’s still alive, but paralyzed from the waist down. She stares at him, eyes wild. Steve can see her eyes begging him to kill her, to not leave her this way, but Bucky just grabs the microphone from her and kicks her body underneath the gurney, like it’s a corpse or a piece of trash, and turns toward Steve.

 

He looks through the glass, face incredulous. The sweat is dripping down his body, and he smells like  _ need _ , so strong Steve starts struggling against the bonds once more, but he looks like he still can’t believe this is even happening. 

 

“In the middle of her villain speech?  _ Really _ ? She gave a  _ villain speech _ ? Is this a comic book? Did I die and get resurrected in a slightly more absurd parallel universe?”

 

“Buck,” Steve mouths, struggling harder, “c’mon. I’m dying here. Literally.”

 

“Don’t be silly,” Bucky says with a scoff, but his eyes and his scent give him away. Despite what Steve had just seen, Bucky’s in bad shape, too. “Such a drama queen.”

 

“Buck,” Steve growls, done with this whole situation.

 

“I know, Stevie, I know. Can I trust you not to jump me if I come in there?”

 

No, Steve’s not sure he can. He winces guiltily. He’s supposed to be the protector, dammit, but here Bucky is, focusing on the mission in spite of his obvious distress, which is probably far beyond what Steve’s ever experienced. Or has even come close to experiencing.

 

Bucky, as if sensing how dismayed he is, offers an apologetic shrug. “I’ve got work to do. A mission to finish.” He grimaces; Steve can actually  _ see _ the slick running down his leg. He whines, wanting nothing more than to take his omega and hold him close… while fucking him senseless, of course. Screw the mission.

 

Bucky’s face softens. “It’s okay, Steve,” he says. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re gonna fuck -  _ gah _ \- ” His face scrunches up once more; Bucky is very definitely  _ not _ okay. “We’re gonna fuck so hard on the quinjet, the entire team won’t be able to look at us for months.”

 

Steve hesitates, but finally nods his assent. That is something they are definitely going to do. But who knows how many A.I.M. agents are here? Watching on monitors, preparing to fight Bucky, to kill him? No, no - Steve’s gotta get out of here and help Bucky. He can hold off - he  _ can. _

 

“Buck, please,” he cries out as Bucky turns to leave the room, growing cold as old moss-covered stone. “I can. I can, just get in here and let me loose.”

 

Bucky sighs, then nods, just once, accepting that Steve can handle it,  _ trusting  _ Steve to handle it. The relief runs up and down Steve’s spine like an orgasm, and just as cathartic. They’ll fight together, side-by-side, just like they’re supposed to do.

 

Steve’s exceptional hearing picks up a number of things, principal among them the wailing of the woman on the floor through the microphone. She’s begging and crying for help; Steve knows that if it were up to Bucky, he’d leave her here to fend for herself, to drag her paralyzed back end along behind her and find help, or else die here. Steve will call for backup, if it hasn’t already arrived, and get the woman to a hospital so that she can get help. But he doesn’t blame Bucky for his behavior; years of torture are liable to make someone unwilling to negotiate with terrorists in any capacity. The sounds of fighting also reach his ears, although distantly, since Bucky is silent when he kills; Steve guesses, from what little he can see from beyond the door to his right, that there are only a few A.I.M. spec ops left here - stupid. That, and the quickness with which silence returns along with Bucky’s satisfied, if distant, scent tells him everything has worked out just fine. 

 

Then his omega is opening the door to his room with one of the keys in his hands, and Steve wishes he could jump for joy at the sight. Bucky is covered in blood, sweat, come, piss, and slick, but he looks as delicious as ever. Steve licks his lips unconsciously, feeling like an animal sensing a meal nearby, slightly disgusted with himself but hungry for everything that’s on display. Wanting to clean Bucky with his goddamn  _ tongue _ , screw the consequences. 

 

“I know, Steve,” Bucky pants as he finds the keys to unlock Steve’s cuffs. “We’ve gotta keep it together, though.” 

 

And they try, they really do. Steve bites his lip so hard he draws blood in his attempt not to touch Bucky, and Bucky trembles from head to toe with need, but it does neither of them any good. Maybe ten seconds after Steve is free, he’s picking up Bucky, pinning him to the wall, and sliding his hard cock into him. Bucky wails, drowning out the voice of their would-be villainess, and the both of them immediately come harder than they’ve ever done in their lives. 

 

Steve wills his breathing to slow, though he can’t will his cock down to softness. They’ll need to knot, and soon. He can stop it from swelling for now, as needy as he is just to make room in his poor, abused balls, but it’s just a stopgap. They need  _ time.  _

 

And preferably some privacy, though that’s unlikely to happen.

 

Steve takes two steps toward the door and then, unable to help himself, turns right back around and starts kissing up and down Bucky’s neck, sucking marks and making Bucky arch and moan with pleasure.

 

“St… Steve. Stop. Steve.  _ Jesus _ ,” Bucky whispers like a benediction. He might be asking Steve to stop, but Bucky sure as hell ain’t pulling away. The sheer  _ want _ in his scent is driving Steve up the fucking wall.

 

“Buck, Bucky, my omega, my sweet boy,” Steve says, a never-ending stream of praise and devotion. 

 

“I’ve gotta… at least wash off. Steve, that’s blood. You’re licking  _ blood _ off me,” Bucky complains, still not pulling away from his alpha.

 

“Don’t care,” Steve murmurs into his skin as he bites down, the blood of other men staining his teeth and lips.

 

Bucky sighs, a sound of pleasure rather than disgust. “Me neither.”

 

Steve  _ hmms _ against his skin. He picks Bucky up again and rams into him against the wall, but just as he’s really getting into a rhythm, Sam peeks his head around the corner - and then immediately jumps back, covering his eyes.

 

“Jesus, God,” he laments from the hallway; Bucky and Steve just ignore him. “Why?”

 

“Heat,” Bucky supplies, not bothering to go into more detail.

 

The smooth sound of Natasha’s graceful walk fills Steve’s ear, though it barely registers because he’s hilt-deep in Bucky. 

 

“They forced him into heat again,” Steve hears her tell Sam.

 

“Again? Didn’t that, like, just happen?”

 

“Mm-hmm. So forgive them… even if it does smell like a whorehouse around here.” 

 

If more than two of his brain cells could fire simultaneously at this moment, Steve would be able to imagine her daintily wrinkling her nose. 

 

“Fuck,  _ fuck, _ Steve… ‘m gonna come. Gonna…  _ fuck _ ,” Bucky says as he comes between them once more. 

 

“Oh, Jesus. We’ve gotta get… did I see Bucky covered in blood?” Sam asks like it’s just now hitting him what he’d seen.

 

“Yeah… the seven dead agents on the floor didn’t clue you in?”

 

A voice screams in pain and frustration, something he’s been ignoring for quite some time. It echoes from around the corner and through the open door, too, getting louder every minute. 

 

“Strike that,” Nat’s soft voice says, barely audible now. “Nine dead, and one… looking a little worse for wear.”

 

“More, Steve,” Bucky urges, and then Steve ignores everything else entirely in favor of his omega.

 

Time passes slowly. He’s not sure how much of it, but all too soon, the team separates him from Bucky - or at least as long as they possibly can; they still hold on to each other tightly, unwilling to be parted again. Bucky steals kisses while the others grumble about  _ goddamn super soldier libidos _ , like that has anything to do with an alpha mating his omega in heat. Sam and Nat push the pair through the adjacent hallway and into a locker room, turning on the shower and then leaving them to their own devices. They don’t even slow down; Bucky just wraps his legs around Steve’s hips again and they go right back to fucking, Steve moaning his appreciation into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s warmth surrounds him like smooth velvet, and neither of them can focus on anything but where they’re joined and what they mean to each other. The shower washes them clean, water running red around Steve’s feet. 

 

_ Whew, boy _ , the quinjet ride home is gonna be awkward. There are still at least three days of this left, if not more. And as Sam would say, as vulgar as it is, Steve gives absolutely zero fucks.


	6. Chapter 6

Some people describe heat as an itch that is impossible to scratch. Others describe it as a siren’s call, or some other kind of compulsion. The common theme is that heat is something essential, something deep down in one’s soul that demands its attention and will not be denied. For Bucky, it’s more like an inescapable high; he floats in the clouds, unable to come down. It’s a little frightening sometimes, being up there all alone. The journey is far better with a partner, but not impossible. But when he’s not alone, it feels like there’s a destination, a purpose, like there’s a reason to come back down to Earth. The landing is softer. 

 

Whatever silly metaphors Bucky uses to describe his heat, it is what it is - an uncomfortable necessity that he can’t run away from. The fact that there are half a dozen other people to share this experience with him and his alpha is the cherry on the shit-cake, but he dares any of them to hold back in such a situation. They all know this, of course, and they’re certainly not judging the pair of soldiers who are currently breaking in the quinjet’s new gurney, but there is an awful lot of complaining. And confusion, especially with Steve trying to be both the leader of the team and Bucky’s alpha besides. 

 

Bucky, floating on his cloud, hears only bits and pieces of the conversation.

 

“What,” Steve pants above him as he thrusts down into Bucky, “what else did we find?”

 

“There’ll be time for a debrief later, Rogers,” Natasha’s annoyed voice says from beyond the curtain.

 

“I need to - ”

 

“No, Rogers,” Stark speaks up. “You need to take care of your omega.”

 

Bucky whines needily in agreement, which causes Steve’s eyes to focus like a beacon back on him. He hears Sam groan in embarrassment, but again - it’s not like any of them have a choice right now. The cloud holds him in its grasp, unwilling to let go. Steve’s eyes meet his and they rock back and forth, enjoying the cloud together. Bucky forgets himself for a time.

 

The next time he’s aware of anything, he’s on his side with Steve wrapped tightly around him, knot shoved so far inside him, he can practically taste it. They’re both soaked in sweat and come once more, sticking to each other like they’ve been glued together. Bucky’d already stopped counting how many times he’d come, and things aren’t looking to slow down any time soon. Every time Steve swivels his hips - which he’s not doing on purpose, Bucky knows, it’s just instinct - a little more dribbles out of his cock. If he’s not coming dry yet, that means there’s a lot more to go.

 

“Man, this is the last time I get on a jet with the two of them like this,” Sam whines from the opposite end of the jet, probably as far away from the festivities as he can get. 

 

“Yeah, no, we had no choice this time, and we might not next time, either. Just gotta put on your big boy panties and deal with it.” Stark says, surprisingly forthright about it all.

 

“I mean, I could’ve waited for another pick-up. And heaven forbid there’s a next time.”

 

“No, we needed to get you back. Big debrief coming up.”

 

“After these two are done, right? Please tell me after.”

 

“No. We might need to leave right away for this one. I don’t want to go without our captain, but at this point it might be too dangerous for either of them anyway.”

 

Bucky’s fully engaged in the conversation now, but he’s glad his alpha’s not. Steve just kisses and licks and bites his neck and shoulder, making Bucky shiver and giggle. Steve’s lost in the cloud, and Bucky wants nothing more than to just join him there; the rest of the world can wait.

 

***

 

He’s out of breath, dehydrated, and feels like he hasn’t been clean in approximately a hundred years, but the heat is finally out of Bucky Barnes’ system and he could not be happier. Super soldier or no, that kind of thing would take it out of anyone, and this is the second time in about a month it’s happened. Finally, though, he can catch a break. 

 

Steve leads him to the shower, calling for JARVIS to have their bedroom scrubbed from top to bottom, the typical post-heat cleanup. Bucky is thankful they have robots to do this for them; he’d hated making those poor women at the hotel clean up after them, betas or no.

 

Steve and Bucky both like their showers piping hot, maybe because of the fact that they so rarely got any hot water back in the thirties and forties unless they boiled it themselves. The whole bathroom is full of steam when they step in. Steve immediately wraps his arms around Bucky, but it’s not sexual. They kiss, chaste brushes of swollen lips against each other, kisses of pure affection rather than desire. If Steve had tried anything with his tongue, Bucky would have tossed him against the opposite wall of the shower, he’s so sick of sex, but Steve is gentle, understanding that Bucky needs space to come back to Earth, to just soak up the heat and have his alpha near.

 

Bucky watches closely as Steve takes a washcloth and rubs it up and down Bucky’s body, tender like he’s made of glass, and for once, he doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t like being treated that way in a general sense - that old fight coming back to haunt them, Steve always yelling that  _ he’s an alpha, and it’s his job to protect Bucky _ \- but in their quiet moments, Bucky finds it sweet. He doesn’t like to think of it as submitting to Steve; rather, it’s a conscious decision to give up control. They’re not animals that can’t help themselves, but the biological pull to allow Steve to take the lead sometimes is a strong one, and they make it work. Despite Bucky’s predisposition and despite his trauma, Steve still knows just how he needs it. 

 

Normally, there’s a sense of peace surrounding them when a heat’s finished, but Steve is unusually subdued today. Bucky cups his face in his hands and lifts until Steve is meeting his eyes. 

 

“What’s going on?” Bucky asks him softly. 

 

The pitter-patter of water droplets nearly drowns out the soft echo of Steve’s breath as he considers his response. “I fucked up,” he finally says in a dull, flat voice. 

 

“What’d you fuck up, babe?” 

 

“The mission. I couldn’t… Buck, we could’ve been caught by someone else. What if the team hadn’t…?” He leaves the rest unsaid. 

 

“Baby, c’mon,” Bucky says, pulling Steve against him so that they’re pressed chest-to-chest. “You’re my alpha, and I was in heat.”

 

Bucky can practically hear Steve trying to think of a good way to say _ but you weren’t affected  _ without making it seem like Steve should’ve been stronger than an omega. Bucky doesn’t let him stew long.

 

“I was in heat, Steve, but if you think Hydra hadn’t pulled that shit on me before, think again.” Steve’s head jerks up as he pulls back, a look of horror on his face. “Of course they did that. They ran all kinds of experiments on me as an omega before deciding to put me on suppressants; hell, they even tried to get me pregnant, fat lot of good it did them.”

 

“That wouldn’t have worked even if you’d been female. Not without your bonded alpha.”

 

“I know that, and they knew it, too, but super soldiers might have different rules. Who knows?”

 

“But your parts are…”

 

“Vestigial, yeah. Point is, they put me through everything they could think of and forced me to work through it. I was in distress, yeah, that wasn’t a complete lie, but I know how to ignore my body well enough. It was programmed into me a long time ago.”

 

Steve winces. He hates it when Bucky talks about himself like that. “Buck…” 

 

“No, don’t worry about that right now, okay? I did what I had to do, and I made a judgment call. If there was a chance there were other operatives in that facility, I’d have left you in the room.”

 

Steve’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t look Bucky in the face, just stares down at his feet with unseeing eyes. “I can’t stand to be a burden like that.”

 

“You weren’t a burden. You’re never a burden, Steve Rogers, do you hear me?”

 

Bucky knows exactly what’s going through Steve’s mind right now; they’ve been together so long, they might as well have access to each other’s thoughts. He’s willing to bet it sounds something close to _ but I’m supposed to be your protector. _ Which is bullshit. They’re a team, and they complement one another; Steve steps in when Bucky needs it, and vice versa. But a verbal reminder of that probably won’t do them any good right now.

 

“I love you, you know that?” Bucky says instead.

 

Steve exhales a sad excuse for a laugh. “Yeah, ‘course I know. Love you too, more than anything.”

 

Bucky leans in, letting his forehead rest against Steve’s. “I know you do. Now c’mon, let’s get some food and water in our bellies. I’m starving.”

 

Steve lets out a more genuine chuckle this time and nods, a thank-you dancing in his eyes when he looks at Bucky. 

 

They’re not ten minutes into chowing down the high-calorie smorgasboard that’s been left for them in the fridge before JARVIS’ posh accent comes over the speaker. “Gentlemen, Sir has requested that I page you as soon as appropriate. He’d like to meet in the common room in a half hour.”

 

Bucky sighs, resigned to his fate. He’d like to skip the meeting and let his body get some damn rest, a good twenty-four hours’ worth at least, but Steve’s already on his feet, piling a plate high with lunch meat and bread to take to the seventy-seventh floor. And Bucky’ll be damned if he lets them make some major decision without him just because he isn’t strong enough to get through a heat and come out the other side in halfway-decent shape. He still has the serum, so there’s no excuse.

 

***

 

“So what’s going on?” Steve asks as the team assembles around the meeting table. His hair’s still a bit damp and a little longer than it should be, but he looks one-hundred percent put-together. Gorgeous. Not like he’s just been put through the ringer, which is how Bucky feels (and probably looks). 

 

“Ah, I see you lovebirds decided to join us,” Sam says. “And by the way, that is the absolute  _ last  _ time I am getting on a jet with the two of you in the middle of sex. I have seen shit I can’t unsee.” 

 

Steve blushes and looks chastised, even though it wasn’t like they’d had much of a choice in the matter. Sam turns to Bucky with his eyebrows raised as though expecting him to apologize or act the same, but he just shrugs. Sam throws his head back and breathes deeply as though in prayer, muttering “Save me from these morons.”

 

“As soon as bird-boy’s done complaining over here, we can get started,” Tony says. 

 

“I thought I was bird-boy?” Clint asks from Bucky’s left, sounding put out.

 

“Do you want to fight for the title? Tell you what, one of you gets to be bird-boy, the other bird-brain.”

 

Clint scoffs. “Well, obviously I’m bird-boy. My brains are top notch. I work ‘em out all the time,” he says proudly.

 

“Your… multiple… brains... are top notch?”

 

“Back to the discussion at hand, please,” Steve says, wearing his _ I am Captain America and you will listen because I am an adorable attack puppy _ face. One of Bucky’s favorite Steve faces, though he’d be loathe to admit it. He’d never hear the end of it. “Start from the top. I wasn’t exactly in a condition to understand what was happening. How’d you guys get free?”

 

“Sam brought Hill and a couple junior agents,” Natasha supplies. “When they got there, Tony and I had already escaped our holding cells and were looking for wherever they were holding the two of you. It was a big compound, obviously set up for a lot of R&D, but not very heavily staffed. Hill and Wilson found us, and we hacked into the computer systems to find the sub-basement, where they were keeping you.”

 

“Then you found us… going at it. Again.” Steve is pink as a daisy; Bucky knows the blush continues down his neck and chest. It reminds Bucky of so many little moments from their childhood together: when Steve had gotten caught with his dad’s old Tijuana bibles, adorned with beautiful omegas in all sorts of compromising positions; when Sarah had caught the two of them making out on her couch not two hours after Bucky had finally presented as omega. Many more. Steve’s adorable when he’s embarrassed, even when he’s got nothing to be embarrassed about. 

 

“Yeah. Managed to get you clean and on the quinjet so you could… do your thing. I swear, you white people are going to give me an ulcer someday,” Sam laments. 

 

“Couldn’t help it,” Bucky says, because it’s true. 

 

“I know, but I wanted to stay back. Let you guys catch a ride with someone else for a change - you realize this is the second time this has happened to me, right? You owe me twice over. At least Big Daddy Protector over here didn’t nearly bite my head off when I got near him like he did last time.”

 

Steve frowns, that funny little furrow making its appearance between his brows. Bucky considers for a second, and comes up with  _ constipated-puppy face _ . “Why couldn’t you have caught another flight?”

 

“Because,” Tony says, “We found some shit on their computers that needed decoding, STAT.”

 

This must be what they were talking about when Steve was too busy shoving his knot in Bucky’s ass to pay attention. Bucky’s thankful he was. There’s nothing quite like fighting for your alpha’s attention in the middle of heat to make you feel unwanted, no matter the reason.

 

“And what’d you find?” Steve asks.

 

“This is an offshoot of Hydra… sort of. They broke off back in the sixties, citing ‘differences in opinion.’ I’m surprised Hydra didn’t just dissolve them. A few murders here and there, perfect work for the Asset - sorry, buddy - and the whole lot of ‘em would’ve been done. They were only one science division. Hydra lettin’ ‘em go is a bit out of character for them.”

 

“Americans,” Bucky puts in, not knowing how he knows it, just that he does. “They were an American offshoot. One of Zola’s brainchildren, no doubt. I knew a couple A.I.M. guys. Dressed in these goofy yellow outfits, looked kinda like hazmat suits, even the scientists. They disappeared around the time I shot Kennedy.”

 

Their eyes all swing toward him - Natasha looking thoughtful, Sam with his jaw on the ground, and Steve like he’d swallowed an entire lemon. 

 

“Wasn’t in my file?” Bucky asks, eyebrows raised.

 

“Uh… “ Sam says eloquently.

 

Stark stands up and starts pacing; Bucky’s surprised he hasn’t created a line in the carpet from doing it so often. “Doesn’t matter. We think they’re trying to do genetic testing. Creating new super soldiers is their end goal, I’d wager.” 

 

Steve sighs, pushing a hand through his hair. “This has been tried before. They can cut me up into tiny pieces and bleed me dry, but they’ll never make another super soldier.”

 

“Not make. Breed.”

 

Bucky’s and Steve’s heads both jerk up at that. “What, use my semen to impregnate a bunch of omegas? And then what, wait eighteen years?”

 

“Wouldn’t even work anyway,” Banner comments from the end of the table. “You can only get your bonded omega pregnant, since bonding changes your entire DNA, and Bucky can’t get pregnant because he doesn’t exactly have the right parts for it.”

 

Bucky’s eyes swing over to see Steve’s face scrunch up in confusion. “Then why the hell did they want my semen?” He frowns, then turns his thoughtful expression in Bruce’s direction. “Where were you, anyway? We showed up in Nicaragua to meet Tony and thought you were gonna be there,” Steve says. The implication that  _ this might’ve never happened otherwise  _ is in his words, under the surface, though Steve would never speak them aloud.

 

“I was… otherwise occupied,” Banner says apologetically, wincing. “Long story. I didn’t want to leave you out there like this. But this shouldn’t have even happened to begin with. Do we know where it went wrong?”

 

“I think we were drugged through some aerosol,” Natasha says. “Reminded me of the stuff they’d use in the Red Room to get us omegas to cooperate. One of their less subtle means of control.”

 

“Seems likely it was based on Hydra tech, whatever it was. Half these guys were neck-deep in Hydra operations before coming to A.I.M.,” Tony puts in. “Half of it’s my fault. I should’ve had the advanced filters on. By the time JARVIS got wind there was something in the air, it was too late.” 

 

“Don’t blame yourself, Tony,” Steve says automatically, knowing just what to say to each of his teammates when they need to hear it. An alpha born for leadership, not gifted it out of a vial of serum like Stark had once claimed. Bucky will admit he’s a bit biased, though. “None of us could’ve foreseen this.”

 

“I had the equipment to make sure this didn’t happen, and I blew it. Don’t try to absolve me of responsibility here, Rogers.” 

 

Steve looks at Tony consideringly for a few moments, then nods his head in acquiescence;  _ I don’t agree, but I get it. _ The whole table must be aware already of how much Steve is blaming himself for not protecting Bucky, and then for forgetting the mission in favor of fucking the pants off his omega. Hell, he hadn’t even had pants in the way.

 

“Look, blaming ourselves isn’t gonna change anything,” Nat says, and Bucky nods his head in silent agreement. “What are we going to do moving forward?”

 

“Well, we need to find out where these people are located, then steal whatever research they’ve got up to this point. I’m willing to bet they’ve got their fingers in a lot of pies. I remember some of the names we found from my days in weapons dealing, so I’m pretty sure they are, at the very least, involved in international terrorism. And then there’s the whole serum issue. Can’t have them recreating Cap,” Tony says. “The world would collapse with two of him in it.”

 

“Uh, there’s already two of me? Have you met my omega? The man carrying around his own version of the serum, and also literally my DNA.”

 

“Yeah, sure, but he’s convinced the serum is a bad thing. You’re still planning to have it removed again, right, Buckaroo?”

 

Bucky cuts his eyes over to Steve, who’s giving him a strange look. He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

 

“But you would’ve died on that table if you hadn’t had the serum.” Steve is getting pissed off, and Bucky’s hackles are rising right along with. 

 

“But I didn’t.”

 

Steve’s jaw clenches. Bucky can see the pulse point in his neck jumping. “What if the team hadn’t arrived then? We’d have been up shit creek.”

 

“Doesn’t change anything, Steve,” Bucky sighs.

 

“Yeah, it  _ does! _ ” Steve practically yells. Bucky’s eyes widen and everyone else pulls back from the table. “You could’ve  _ died _ . The first time, you refused to stay here, and then you broke your damn arm worrying more about me than yourself - “

 

“Someone’s gotta watch out for your reckless ass,” Bucky mutters.

 

“ - and then you would’ve died this time around! If you don’t want the serum, fine, I respect that choice, but you’re grounded if you do it. I can’t have you risking your life like that, Buck. Not with these people out there gunning for you.”

 

Steve’s breathing hard and his eyes are a little wild, but Bucky is the opposite. Bucky is quiet as the grave, as the Soldier, because Bucky is not getting into this argument right now, not in front of the team. In fact, he’d be too angry to discuss it even if the team weren’t around. How dare this jackass sit here and tell him, in no uncertain terms, what he is and is not allowed to do? Hadn’t they gotten past all this?

 

He stands up and pushes his chair in quietly, nods at the others like nothing’s wrong, and walks out of the common room. Not even the anguished sound Steve makes can call him back.

 

***

 

Steve paces back and forth in the quinjet’s limited space. The alarm to assemble had just rung out, loud and piercing throughout the upper floors of Stark Tower, where the team lives. Steve had been in the gym with his uniform right next to him, as he is quite often these days, given that his omega will barely even speak to him. He’d gotten to the jet and reviewed the available intel with Hill, and now… now, he’s worried.

 

For one thing, this is the first mission for Bucky since he’d been de-serumed for the second time. Of course, having been forbidden to stay part of the ground team had done nothing to stop the man; Steve has an approximately zero percent chance of holding Bucky back when he truly wants to do something. That’d always been true, but it’s important now in a way it hadn’t been before. Steve can’t lock Bucky in a cage of any kind, can’t bear to make decisions for him, no matter what he has to do to make the team believe he’s in charge. The alpha in him detests this; his omega should  _ listen _ , dammit, because Bucky knows that Steve is only trying to protect him the best he can. But the rational, genuinely good man inside him says otherwise, says that Bucky knows what’s best for himself, and that, while Steve plays an important part of those decisions, his autonomy is ultimately his and his alone.

 

For another thing… this call may or may not be related to the last one, when Bucky could’ve died in a goddamn sub-basement, while his alpha watched, and Steve would’ve died right along with him. This mission is definitely A.I.M., but intelligence points to a different subdivision within the organization. Smuggling again, but weapons this time, not pharmaceuticals. It still gives Steve pause, but there are two key differences between this call and the last that let his heart rest a bit easier: There are no drugs involved, and there’s no way this is a setup like before. This call came directly from Stark’s own data mining. 

 

Steve still paces.

 

The team trickles onto the jet: Nat, Clint, Tony, and Thor, who is visiting from Asgard and happy to help, as always. Bruce is ‘otherwise indisposed’ once more; Steve makes a mental note to ask him if there’s anything he can do. 

 

Bucky arrives last, clad in black kevlar and looking and smelling sexy as  _ fuck  _ \- Steve’s his alpha, he can’t fucking help it - with the mask already in place. He’s even wearing the goggles, which is unusual nowadays, but Steve figures he had it coming. Bucky hasn’t slept in their bed since the disastrous team meeting a week and a half ago; he’s been sleeping in the spare room that was set up for him after he’d first arrived at the Tower. They’ve exchanged a few greetings, but cold politeness is as far as Bucky’s been willing to go, and Steve, as much as it hurts him, is unwilling to push it. As long as he’s a good teammate and takes care of himself in the fight, that’s what matters right now. Even if there’s a spear shoved between Steve’s ribs every time he looks at his omega.

 

“Alright, guys,” he sighs, forcing himself into business mode. “Intel says we’ve got another smuggling operation, exports from a three-block radius in the Bronx. Looks like high-tech weaponry, possibly homegrown, but more likely to be Chitauri leftovers.”

 

Stark nods along, putting the data on display in front of him and zooming in to the Bronx. “Yep, that’s our culprit right there. Toomes’ Salvage Company. I know the guy; we signed a contract with the state to take over cleanup, threw his guys out. He had access. Gotta be him.”

 

“Great. That’s great, at least we know what to expect.”

 

“We going after the source or the smuggling operation? Or are we splitting up?” Natasha asks.

 

“No time to worry about Toomes at the moment. If those weapons leave this shore, we’ll have a hell of a time tracking ‘em down. That’s why we’re on at a moment’s notice. Ship leaves dock in three-and-a-half hours. Let’s see what we can find, shall we?”

 

“Those are A.I.M. signatures,” Bucky says from behind his mask, and Steve hates the deadened quality of his voice. It means he’s likely dissociating, whether to poke at Steve or because it’s easier on a mission, he’s not sure. 

 

“Yeah, this is them, alright. No connection to the other cell we dealt with though, as far as I can tell,” Nat throws in.  _ Thank goodness, _ Steve thinks but doesn’t say.

 

“Agreed,” Tony says. “I don’t think we’re in any danger of sudden mating cycles this time around.”

 

“Wasn’t worried about it,” Bucky says, no-nonsense, but that’s a lie; it’s written in the way he stands, slightly guarded. Not open and unafraid like the Soldier once stood. Eighty years together, and Bucky can’t hide from Steve, even if his scent is artificially inhibited as it is now. Steve suspects that Banner has something to do with that, either through yoga or some strange concoction. Also something he needs to talk to Banner about later. 

 

“Let’s get in there and get it done then, shall we, fellas?” Tony asks. The Iron Man faceplate snaps into place, and the rest of the ride is spent in awkward silence. 

 

***

 

Steve is fully aware that his focus is not on the job today. How could it be, when his de-serumed omega is fighting bad guys with nothing more than a metal arm and a shit-ton of combat skills? Well… okay, when Steve puts it like that, he realizes he’s being a little overprotective. Still, one lucky shot, and Bucky goes down and never gets up again. And that is unacceptable. 

 

So he watches Bucky closely, one eye on the fight and the other on his omega. Before long, Steve starts to feel ashamed for doubting him. He still slides through combat like a snake in the grass, clearly in his natural habitat. Silent. Quick. Deadly. These A.I.M. agents don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting the jump on Bucky; he’s preternaturally aware of his surroundings, even without the serum. Steve is impressed. 

 

Steve is also… aroused. Like he was when he watched Bucky take out that woman in the middle of the worst heat he’s ever experienced. Given that there’s no heat to cause that kind of reaction, what does that say about him?

 

It doesn’t matter. Bucky’s holding his own just fine, and between them, the fight is over in less than ten minutes, the police called, the investigation started. Hell, the press conference alone will take more time than this entire operation had. And in the meantime, Steve has to think of something to say to Bucky. But what? He’s been an ass, everything he never wanted to be. Treating his omega like a damsel in distress. Trying to box him in, not give him the options he’d never had as the Winter Soldier. 

 

Tony and Natasha whisper all through the short quinjet ride back to the Tower. Steve wants to start the conversation now, given the relative privacy on the jet, to set down a little of the newfound guilt eating at him, but he doesn’t. He’ll carry this burden a bit further. There’s press and debrief and then, hopefully, a heartfelt apology and a warm body back in his bed, back in his arms. He wants nothing more than to wrap himself around Bucky like a cocoon. 

 

Bucky, with his keen awareness of the world around him, meets his eyes. Steve nods, trying to convey some of what he’s thinking, and Bucky nods back, though his eyes are still hard. It’s a start. 

 

Nat and Tony handle the logistics of dealing with Toomes - it’ll be an Avengers mission because of the Chitauri weapons they’d discovered - while Steve and Hill deal with the press, which is not Steve’s favorite pastime, but he’s gotten damn good at it, between the USO Tour and his time out of the ice. All he has to do is put on his  _ stern puppy _ face - which,  _ thanks Buck, but that’s not even a thing - _ and he can get through it no problem. 

 

As soon as the media circus is over, Steve rushes from the podium to find Bucky, but Natasha stops him in the hallway outside his rooms. He gives her an impatient look, crossing his arms and tapping a foot. Natasha, of course, is not intimidated in the least. 

 

“Hey, guess what I found?” she asks with not a little excitement behind her eyes.

 

“Is it the secret to omega satisfaction, because that’s about all I care about right now.”

 

She lifts an eyebrow in amusement, and Steve just rolls his eyes. “Didn’t realize you needed help satisfying your omega, Rogers.”

 

“Ha ha. Very funny. You gonna tell me what this is about so I can get back to my family?”

 

Her gaze softens. “I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

 

Steve gestures to her -  _ well, out with it _ .

 

Instead of answering, she pulls out a USB drive and hands it to him. 

 

“Oh my god! Amazing!” he says sarcastically, which makes her look more than merely unimpressed. 

 

“You’re a funny guy today,” she says dryly. “It’s information on A.I.M. I think we can trace their North American headquarters.”

 

“And you didn’t bring this up in the debrief because…?”

 

“Because I don’t trust SHIELD?” she says, as if it should be obvious.

 

SHIELD had been rebuilt from its own ashes - literally, considering both Fury and Coulson had come back from the dead - but both of them tend to be gun-shy about the organization. Fool me twice and all that. 

 

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. We’ll look at it later. Can I go to Bucky now?”

 

“Of course. But don’t spend three days in there having sex. I’d think you’d have had enough of that with two heats in a month’s span.”

 

“Nat, you’re an omega. You should know better.”

 

“Whatever, Rogers. I will hunt you down!” she yells, marching toward the elevator.

 

He grumbles under his breath as he turns to the door. “Looking forward to it.”

 

***

 

“I’m not in the mood to argue, Steve,” Bucky says as soon as he opens the door. He’s sitting on the couch in their open living room with his head in his hands. Obviously, Bucky is just done with the entire thing. 

 

“I’m not, either,” Steve tells him, suddenly just as exhausted as he was after Bucky’s last heat had wrung him dry. “But we’ve gotta stop this. We keep dancing ‘round and ‘round the same shit. We can’t keep doin’ that, and you know it.”

 

The sigh that drifts over the couch says more than words possibly could. Bucky’s just as tired - of this, in general - as Steve is. The worst part is, Bucky’s body can’t just pick up the pieces like it used to; he’s as human as Barton, Romanov, Stark. He’ll break down and age just as they will, while Steve… well, Steve’ll keep going for a couple hundred years, if what the doctors are telling him is correct. He gets a stomach ache every time he thinks about it, losing Bucky to old age. 

 

“Look,” he says, crossing the room to sit next to Bucky. “Just let me talk for a minute, yeah?”

 

Bucky nods but doesn’t look at him.

 

“Okay. I just… well, I mean, I wanted to apologize. Say I’m sorry.”

 

Bucky side-eyes him. “Steve Rogers is apologizing to me? What the hell did you do with the real Steve?” he asks, bewilderment clear in his tone.

 

“Very funny.”

 

“I ain’t laughin’, you damn punk. You never say ‘sorry.’” 

 

“Guess I’m just a human being who doesn’t like bein’ proved wrong.”

 

“I ain’t arguin’ that,” Bucky mutters.

 

Steve grinds his teeth together, amazed, as always, by how well Bucky knows him, how easy it is for him to rile Steve up. He knows Steve inside and out, the good and the bad, including how to push his buttons. 

 

“Goddammit, Buck,” he sighs, willing his heart to calm down, to back down from an impending fight. “I’m trying to apologize, and you’re gonna be an ass, really?”

 

Bucky actually looks… contrite for once in his damn life. Well, if Steve can apologize, even stranger things can happen. 

 

“Go for it.”

 

“I was wrong to judge you. You handled yourself like a professional, because you are one. That metal arm gives you an advantage over a lot of people, a lot of things, and your skills are unmatched. Y’know, sometimes it’s funny, I forget you’re the best assassin in history. I don’t mean to, it’s just that I know you, and you’re…  _ you _ . Sweet and funny and caring. Just… a good man. So when you’re ruthless out there, it doesn’t necessarily match this picture I have of you in my head. I guess.”

 

He falls silent, pondering what to say next. Bucky seems content to let him talk.

 

“Point is, I know you can handle yourself. I don’t ever,  _ ever _ mean to insinuate that you can’t. It’s just that some of the things we’re up against… even we can be outgunned. And if you took a shot the right way… all it would take is one. You wouldn’t come back from it.”

 

His voice is breaking, thick with unshed tears that he desperately tries to hold back. God, how he hates thinking about this. Bucky’s eyes burn holes in Steve. He only hopes Bucky’s not going to be angry once he’s said his piece.

 

“I used to not have that worry, you know? You were like me. And before you say anything,” he adds, finger in the air to ward off Bucky’s complaint, “I’m not immortal. I know that, and I try to be less reckless for your sake. Certainly more careful than I was when I thought I’d lost you. But that’s not the point right now. The point is… I dunno, Buck. I just… couldn’t stand to lose you again. It almost killed me once. Hell, probably the only reason it didn’t was because you weren’t actually dead, and you know how much guilt I carry because of that. A second time would be too much for me to bear. And I don’t think it’s fair for you to pretend like there’s no chance you’ll end up in that situation again. It’s not an unreasonable fear in our line of work.”

 

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Bucky says, picking over his words carefully. “But I don’t take risks like you do, Steve. I’m  _ careful _ . It was burned into my brain, self-preservation. I did what they wanted, before they really started brainwashing me, because I wanted to stay alive. I wanted to find you, and I thought maybe there’d be a way out. Or at least I thought so before you went and swan-dived into the Arctic,” he says ruefully. “After they told me about that, I found it a lot harder to care, but by then it was in my blood.”

 

Steve hates it when Bucky talks about his time with Hydra,  _ hates _ it. But this is something to think about, that Bucky is a survivor, that he’s survived horrors that would’ve killed most people, and not just because of the serum. It’s not much comfort, but it’s something. 

 

“I’m with you to the end of the line, Steve,” Bucky says, finally turning to face him. “I’m not gonna let myself get killed. I know I’m human. Fragile. It’s terrifying. But I know how to take care of myself.” He reaches out and laces his fingers with Steve’s. 

 

Steve stares at their hands, noting the little scar on the outside of Bucky’s thumb, right at the base, where he’d cut an artery washing dishes as a teenager. A knife had gotten in the sink somehow, buried beneath the surface, and he hadn’t known it was there. The serum stops most scars from forming - Bucky’s arm being an exception due to the brutality required to attach it - but this had happened well before that, and the mark hadn’t disappeared. It’s Steve’s little reminder that Bucky is mortal. 

 

“You can be as careful as you want, but something could still happen to you in the middle of a fight. How am I not supposed to worry about that?”

 

“Steve,” Bucky says gently, “That was always a possibility.”

 

“And I know you hate it when I tell you I have to protect you, just because you’re my omega - “ Bucky snorts. “ - but you know full well that I can’t help it. It’s not just that you’re my best friend or even my lover. We are  _ part _ of each other. I bonded with you when we were runts. Well, I was a runt, you were… are… look, that’s not the point. I’m just trying to get it through your thick goddamn head that I  _ feel _ you out there in the universe. I was devastated when I thought you’d died the first time, but had I listened to my heart, I would’ve realized you hadn’t. And that’s part of it, too. I hate to keep reminding you, but you know I’ll never forgive myself for that. You were mine, and I let you down.”

 

Steve’s voice is cracking again, and his eyes are starting to blur. It’s not like they haven’t had this conversation, too, many times. Bucky always tells him that he saved the world, and that not even his omega was worth that. Steve always tries his best to disabuse Bucky of that notion, but it’s never worked. It’s like a rut they’ve walked through a thousand times, well-worn with age.

 

Finally, Bucky sighs. “I get that to some extent. Don’t necessarily agree, but I get it. Sometimes, I feel like I let you down, too, lettin’ them get ahold of me like they did. Turning. Like I shoulda been stronger. But you’ve gotta learn to let it go. And I’m workin’ on it, too, you know I am. Just remember: We’re here. I’m here, and I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

 

Steve wipes a tear from his face and chuckles. “You better not. I’ll hound you to hell and back, you know that.”

 

“End of the line, you goddamn punk.”

 

Steve grabs him and holds him close like it’s the last time they’ll ever see each other. “God, I love you,” he says into Bucky’s neck, kissing their bonding mark, ancient now but no less potent. “There’s nothing… nothing. I’d burn down the entire universe for you.”

 

Bucky huffs a laugh and squeezes him back. “I know you would. I know.”

 

And just like that, they move past it. Hopefully for the last time. Steve will always be scared shitless now that Bucky’s more vulnerable than he used to be, more  _ mortal _ , but it’ll be the last time he asks him to stand down.


	7. Chapter 7

A.I.M.’s headquarters in North America span a good three-block radius in a small town in Massachusetts. Some of the offices and warehouses on the street are fronts, while others do legitimate business as well. Tony’s data mining and Natalia’s collection of spies had yielded the layout of the city blocks. The head of operations is located in a building tucked into the corner of the block farthest from the town center. Next to it is an ancient broken-down factory filled to the brim with all manner of things, from smuggled goods to laboratory experiments. The actual research spaces are located underneath the building in an underground structure that is set up like a hive. Tony had made a comment about Umbrella Corporation, which is apparently a reference to a movie called  _ Resident Evil _ . Tony told him to put it on his list, but Steve’s not sure he trusts his taste in movies. Bucky, though… it sounds like something Bucky would like.

 

They’ve been watching A.I.M.’s North American headquarters for weeks now, with a network of spies doing their best to dig into whatever secret operations and research they can find, including whatever they’d been trying to do with Steve and Bucky. They haven’t yet been able to discover anything about that particular operation, but many other concerning research products are in play. One, idiotically dubbed the  _ Super Adaptoid _ , appears to be able to copy a superhero’s abilities with uncanny accuracy, or at least it has during testing. Fury is fairly certain this adaptable creature is nearly ready to be released into the world, which could prove disastrous if a number of superheroes converge on it at once, so he’s sending them on an emergency mission to grind this operation to a halt. Fury had felt like this intel was forcing their hand; he had wanted to wait for more data on  _ Operation Stucky _ as it’s come to be known by the team. 

 

So here they are, staking out HQ in the middle of the night, preparing to gather more data and hopefully shut down the Adaptoid. But it’s a good bet that the operatives that work at headquarters are far better prepared, less foolish than the ones they’d encountered in Nicaragua. Bucky’s going in with Nat and Clint while Steve and Sam are on standby, guarding the warehouse; predictably, Steve is a mess of nerves. Kidnapping Bucky again would pull Steve in as surely as gravity would pull an astronaut floating too close to the Sun, so if A.I.M. staff get wind of their presence...

 

No, there’s no point in going down that road. But Steve has to think of something to keep his mind on other things than his omega.

 

Bucky pulls him in and kisses him, soft like Steve’s breakable, but Steve bites his bottom lip and Bucky obligingly opens to him. Then their hands wander, Steve’s pulling Bucky closer with two handfuls of his ass, smashing their chests together. Layers of Kevlar separate them, but they can both feel the heat emanating from their partner.

 

Behind them, Sam makes a disgusted noise. “Jesus Christ, the two of you are codependent.”

 

Steve ignores him, though he reluctantly pulls away. “Time to go.”

 

He watches as Bucky’s eyes change, turning from soft affection to something hard, more akin to the Soldier than his Bucky. Steve makes a small, distressed sound in the back of his throat, recognizing the signs of mild dissociation. Bucky tries to reassure him with a look:  _ Steve, I’m still in here. Just let me do my job _ .

 

Steve has a job to do, too, and he does it well. Between him and Sam, the guards around the HQ building are taken out in a matter of minutes. Then there’s an uncomfortable silence on the comms for a few minutes while Nat takes out their internal security systems. No use distracting her with banter, but it scares Steve a little how preternaturally quiet the three spies can be.

 

Finally, Bucky speaks up. 

 

“Nat’s on her way from the office. Clint’s in the vents, of course.”

 

“Of course,” Steve replies. Clint is damn good at his job, too - they all are - but that’s not to say it isn’t annoying when he randomly pops out of the ceiling in the Tower’s common rooms. Makes Steve wonder if he ever spies on Bucky and him in their suite, although the team’s reaction to Bucky’s forced heats is a likely indicator that no, nobody wants to actually watch that. The thought makes him bare his teeth anyway.

 

For his benefit, the team narrates as they make their way through the aisles and workstations. Steve’s decent with basic mechanics, but he’s unfamiliar with the descriptions of most of what they’re finding here. Some of the machines sound like they could kill a man if he just stared at them too long. There’s a creepy feeling sliding up his spine, tendrils of unease wrapping around his ribs. Even over the comms, the air seems close and stale. Nat’s voice is subdued, while Bucky’s unusually quiet.   

 

“Level three underground,” Natalia eventually says into the comm, and Steve jumps out of his skin a little bit. 

 

“You sure you have to go that far under? Do you want me down there?”

 

“Steve,” Nat says, sighing with exasperation, “Please respect our professional judgment and don’t do anything stupid.”

 

“Told him that at the Stark Expo back in ‘43, but the bastard just wouldn’t listen,” Bucky says cheekily, the jerk.

 

They take the stairs to the third floor underground and find a maze of corridors that even has Steve feeling a little claustrophobic on the rooftop. Most of the rooms they pass are windowless, doors locked tightly, as if to keep someone (or something) in as well as out. Occasionally, they’ll pass a research lab with glass windows displaying a variety of things: computer banks, large labs with medical equipment, offices, and otherwise unspecified research labs.

 

Eventually, Nat leads Bucky around a corner and into a nondescript room, using Stark’s technology to hack the lock. Steve listens as she and Bucky break into the machines and search files for... whatever it is they’re looking for. In the meantime, he patrols the perimeter from his well-hidden spot on the rooftop. Briefly, he wonders where the hell Clint’s got off to. 

 

Natasha gasps and then makes a sound Steve interprets as delight. 

 

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asks bemusedly.

 

“Tons of stuff. I wish I could stay and play all night. Their security is atrocious. Bunch of Hydra wannabes here.”

 

“Coulda told you that after the Nicaraguan fiasco,” Bucky mutters.

 

“Can we get out of here soon? Place is givin’ me the heebie-jeebies,” Steve says.

 

“What’s’a matter, Rogers, scared of the dark?” Natasha asks in a sickly-sweet voice.

 

“Funny. This just isn’t my thing.”

 

“Well, we’re not here to punch anything into next week, so that makes sense,” Nat tells him dryly.

 

Before he can reply, Bucky cuts in, sounding like he’s grinning from ear-to-ear. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, baby. We got this.”

 

Steve sighs and plays along, secretly hoping that  _ someone  _ comes to investigate at zero-dark-thirty just so he can put this energy to good use. He’d really rather be at home fucking Bucky into the mattress, though why that thought would come up yet again during a mission is beyond him. Steve apparently has a competence kink.

 

Soon, Nat’s on her way to the next lab, leading them deeper into the complex. Steve only hopes she knows where she’s going, or they could be lost here for hours trying to make their way back. Even having a layout of the place, it sounds like an actual maze. He finds himself wishing that he was in there with them, rather than on the roof; either that, or that he’d stayed home and let another team member take the lead. Being the brawn of the operation usually involves a lot more physical activity, and this inertia is killing him.

 

He starts asking more questions about the layout, what they’re doing, and how they plan to make it back to the top floor if something goes sideways, when Clint finally decides to break his radio silence.

 

“You and Bucky should really consider a private channel,” he says conversationally, though Steve can hear him ducking through vent corridors. 

 

“Why?” he asks.

 

“Because you’re like a mother hen,” Clint replies. “Some of us don’t have the ability to multitask like you do, and are trying to, I dunno, focus on their jobs.”

 

Sam blows out a long breath. “Steve, you know it’s bad when Clint Barton is lecturing you. Do you know I caught him putting on blush the other day?”

 

Steve can practically hear Clint rolling his eyes. “Bro, the circus taught me how to be beautiful. I ain’t gonna let that skill go to waste. Besides, we’re talking about  _ Steve’s _ eccentricities here.”

 

Bucky snorts. “Good luck getting Steve to break that habit. He always gets his mouth going when he’s nervous.”

 

“I do no such thing!” Steve responds, huffing indignantly. 

 

“Hush up, Rogers,” Bucky says, but his exasperated affection belies the harshness of the words.

 

They sneak in to three more labs before they see a soul. One contains a mess of parts and a thick packet of instructions on ‘caring for’ the Super Adaptoid creature, which, inexplicably, only serves to make Natasha even more gleeful. The other two are rooms like the first, computers lining the far wall just asking for someone with the know-how to bust in. 

 

Before they make it to the fourth and final laboratory of interest, having gotten most of the data they’d come here for, Clint whispers into the comms. “You’ve got targets. Two. They look like scientists. You’re, uh… not gonna like what they’re up to.”

 

Steve stands frozen, preparing to rush into the building when he hears Bucky vomiting.  

 

“I’m coming in,” he says in his best Captain’s voice.

 

“Stand down, Cap. We’ve got this,” Nat tells him, and for once in his goddamn life, he listens, though it doesn’t stop the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

 

“Tell me what’s going on.”

 

“Two scientists,” Nat says in a clipped tone. “The man they’re working on is missing an arm and a leg, and there’s a metal prosthetic sitting on a table next to his bed. In the middle of the room is a chair.”

 

_ “The _ Chair,” Bucky adds weakly. 

 

_ So they are trying to create more super soldiers. Brainwashed ones, just like Bucky. _ The thought makes him want to be sick, too.

 

He can hear the scientists through the comm as they try to explain. “Not our idea,” says one in a nervous tone.

 

“Yeah, man. We just work here. Tryin’ to pay off student loans and give my family a future.”

 

“Yep,” agrees the first. “Biggest show in town. We were offered a lot of money, not really knowing what we were getting into. By then, it was too late.”

 

Steve closes his eyes and inhales quietly. It doesn’t matter what excuse these guys make. They’re dead. Maybe they wouldn’t be if Steve had come alone or with different teammates, but it is what it is. And knowing what he knows now makes Steve feel a little less guilty. Hell, it’s possible these guys were part of the scientific teams that dealt with the Asset. A.I.M would undoubtedly want to pick up ex-Hydra staff after the organization’s fall.

 

“You’re gonna understand pretty quickly,” Bucky growls.

 

“Buck,” Steve says, the warning clear in his voice. “Don’t do something you’ll regret later.”

 

“You’ve got five minutes with ‘em, Natalia,” Bucky spits before turning around and walking out the door again. 

 

Natasha, who understands Bucky’s history better than most, better than Steve could ever hope to, grimly acquiesces. 

 

One of them - the first guy - is almost certainly lying about not knowing what he was getting into, because his voice shakes in a way that has nothing to do with cold. 

 

“You know who he is,” Natasha states.

 

Guy Number One swallows audibly. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I worked on upgrades for his arm.”

 

Surprised by the man’s forwardness, Steve isn’t sure what to say at first. Rage flashes through him, followed by determination not to give in to his base desires, to come down there and give this guy a taste of what Steve Rogers is truly capable of. He’ll leave this to Bucky.

 

“Patch me through,” he says instead.

 

A click, Natasha changing her comm link to public mode. 

 

“You know who  _ I  _ am,” he says.

 

“Everybody knows who you are.”

 

“Then you know that’s my omega your people tortured for decades.” Steve’s voice is raw with a kaleidoscope of emotions. He’s pretty sure he’ll have nightmares for weeks following this evening, even though he hasn’t gotten a visual on the room in question. The Chair, the man on the table, the residual scent of the scientists’ fear he’ll get from Natasha and Bucky are all things which will cause his imagination to run wild.

 

God, the things they did to Bucky. And, for better or for worse, Bucky had lived through it due to the serum. Steve’s so conflicted about the serum issue it makes him dizzy.

 

The scientist gulps. “Yeah, I do.”

 

“Here’s how this is gonna go,” Steve says, trying his best to keep his voice level. “You’re gonna give us all the information you have on this little project you’re working on, as well as anything you know about what that mess in Nicaragua was all about. And I mean all of it, or the directions to where we can find out.”

 

“And then?” the other asks, a tremor in his voice. He might not have known who Bucky was on sight, but it’s never been a secret who Captain America’s omega was.

 

“Depending on how useful you’ve been, Bucky’ll decide what to do with you. I highly suggest you wrack your brains for whatever you can find. We don’t have a lot of time, but I guarantee he can make it feel like your death lasts for ages. It’s all up to you.”

 

That’s the signal for Natasha to leave as he hears Bucky return, the clip of his footsteps, but no other sound indicating he’s now in full, if not true, Winter Soldier mode. Nat turns on her heel and walks out. Steve continues to stand guard outside, resolutely ignoring the wet noises coming over the comm. He’s not cut out for all this spy shit, and even less so for interrogation, though there is a dark seed inside him that murmurs  _ that’s not true, and you know it _ . And thinking about what that prick and his colleagues did to Bucky… he knows there’s at least a kernel of truth to it.

 

_ Not a perfect soldier, but a good man,  _ Erskine had said, once upon a time. A lifetime ago.

 

Sometimes he wonders if he has a right to call himself that anymore.

 

***

 

When Bucky sees the man strapped to the bed, past Natalia, surrounded by scientists using god-knows-what instruments to torture him, he nearly throws up. He thinks maybe he’s in a nightmare, or worse, in the beginning stages of a flashback - Hydra had done such things to him, and made him stand by while they’d done it to others as well - but when he becomes aware of the chair, it’s like a fist to the gut, and he can’t hold back anymore. There’s barely enough time to turn around before he gets sick. 

 

Unlike Rogers, Bucky has no qualms with interrogation. Not just because Hydra had desensitized him to it a long time ago, but also because he’s seen the things that people are capable of, and anyone who’s had a hand in torture doesn’t deserve his pity or his mercy. Once upon a time, he might’ve considered himself a good man, too good to stomach such a thing, but Hydra had ripped that out of him by 1950. Hell, the only reason Bucky still feels like he has a soul is because of Steve, the light to his darkness. All the good inside him exists only because of his alpha.  

 

Strangely, Bucky doesn’t blame himself. He’d struggled with it when he first came to the Tower, when he started getting back his memories, those from Hydra and those from before. It didn’t take him long to recognize who was really to blame, though. He understands, on a fundamental level, that it wasn’t his choice. From the moment Bucky fell, his autonomy had been stripped from him. None of what happened until the moment Steve had fallen from the helicarrier is his to own.

 

But that also doesn’t change the fact that he did it. He spent more than half a century doing Hydra’s dirty work for them, and assassinations were just the tip of the iceberg. He’d killed people in much dirtier ways than simple headshots, just because Hydra had wanted to send a message, had wanted the person or people on the other end of the Soldier’s wrath to suffer. He’d watched as his operators had tortured and maimed prisoners in much the same way they had him, while he’d stood there and said nothing. Done nothing. Knowing somewhere in his head and his heart that this was all wrong, that he was on the wrong side, but unable to follow that thread. 

 

That kind of thing will make anyone a monster. And after awhile, he’d accepted the monster within himself. Steve likes to pretend that Bucky Barnes was dead while the Soldier performed his monstrous deeds, that his old best friend had come back to him, but the truth is that the Soldier and Bucky are one. 

 

Bucky’s not a good man, that’s the long and short of it.

 

So when Steve and Natalia leave him to it, Bucky doesn’t hesitate. 

 

One of the scientists is out of his mind with terror, and Bucky recognizes that this man has not been turned yet; he’s uncomfortable with what they are doing here, but understands that leaving would mean death for himself and his family. Hydra never would’ve let him go, and neither will A.I.M., even if they are considerably less efficient than their former bosses. Bucky gets as much information as he can out of that one, then slits his throat with his sharpest blade, making it as painless as possible. 

 

The other, however… somewhere in the back of his mind, Bucky recognizes the man. He doesn’t remember what the scientist’s role was within Hydra, but he had definitely been in the bank vault, working on the Soldier’s arm. 

 

Bucky’s considerably less gentle with him.

 

He’s covered in blood and his soul is wrung dry once it’s finished, though it takes less than ten minutes to run the scientist through his paces, but there’s still one thing left to do. The room smells like blood and death, like fear and infection, and Bucky wants out of there more than he’s wanted anything in a long time. But that one thing… it’s his responsibility. No way out of it.

 

With a heavy heart, Bucky turns to the young man on the table. He can’t be more than twenty. Such a waste. 

 

“Hey. What’s your name?” he asks the kid, who’s still pretty groggy from whatever drugs he’d been given, but starting to wake up.

 

“J… James, sir.”

 

_ That’s just fucking lovely. _ “Well, James, do you have any idea how you got here?”

 

“I… I think… well, these men approached me at school, y’know? After school. And they wanted me to take part in an experiment. Said I was the perfect fit for it. Said they’d pay me a ton of money. My family could really use it.” James looks down at the stump, all that remains of his left leg, as his body starts to shiver. It’s the infection, Bucky knows. “Guess it was too good to be true,” he says bitterly.

 

Of course they would take advantage of a kid in need. He’s realizing that A.I.M. is just as bad as Hydra. All they need is another evil genius like Arnim Zola to propel them forward, help them fill the power vacuum left by Hydra’s downfall. 

 

“Did you kill those men?” the kid asks with wide eyes.

 

“I did,” Bucky confirms.

 

James only nods. “They deserved it,” he says fiercely.

 

“I know.”

 

“That arm… they were tryin’ to recreate you, weren’t they?”

 

“Apparently in more ways than one,” Bucky tells him.

 

“Well, I’m sorry. I can only guess what’s happened to you.” There’s no pity in the kid’s eyes, and Bucky admires the fuck out of him. It’s a shame that infection is going to kill him.

 

Something of the truth must show in his eyes, because James looks away, and there’s a hitch in his breath when he speaks. “I ain’t got much time left, do I.” He says it like a statement.

 

“No.” There’s no point lying to him.  _ And what you’ve got left ain’t gonna be pretty, kid _ , he thinks but doesn’t say.

 

“They kept pumpin’ me full of stuff, but I’d get fevers anyway, last couple nights. I ain’t the smartest crayon in the box, but I know enough to know I’m in bad shape.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, and he is. Such a goddamn  _ waste _ .

 

“Do I have a chance?” he asks with that glimmer of hope men will cling to until they’re broken. Bucky knows the feeling all too well. To know it’s finished, but still want to live in spite of what’s coming. 

 

Unfortunately, he had.

 

“No.”

 

James nods, takes a breath, and looks Bucky straight in the eyes. “How’d you survive it?”

 

“I’m enhanced. Against my will. I’d have died I don’t know how many times over the years without it. On bad days, I wish I had.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling the kid all this, maybe to help him make peace with his death, or maybe because he needs an outlet that’s not Steve, who can’t hear this conversation because Bucky had cut off his comm.

 

The kid nods. Bucky can see the exhaustion in his eyes. 

 

“Can you make it quick?” James finally asks. 

 

“You won’t feel a thing,” Bucky promises.

 

“Alright. Thank you.”

 

_ You don’t have to thank me, kid _ . “I know what it’s like to be where you are. I know what I’d want. What I wanted.”

 

James closes his eyes. Bucky knows that’s the end of the conversation. He does what he’d promised, angles the shot for maximum effect. 

 

“Sorry, kid,” Bucky whispers as Natalia enters behind him.

 

“We’re gonna have to make it look like he escaped, you know. Killed the men who were experimenting on him.”

 

“Covered our tracks that well, did we?” Bucky asks.

 

“We’re professionals. Not even Steve’s presence could have messed this up.”

 

Bucky snorts. “Not here to send a message, huh?”

 

“No. The Super Adaptoid creature is still in development. We’ve got time. Fury doesn’t want them to know we’re onto them yet.”

 

“So this was a farce? Just wanted to get us in here as soon as possible?”

 

“Mostly. I don’t know if his intel was good, but Fury’s a master manipulator. Impossible to say whether he thought this was an emergency or not.”

 

That sounds like a bad strategy to Bucky, but he keeps his mouth shut. It’s way above his pay grade. “Steve still upstairs?”

 

“You know he can’t leave you, no matter how distasteful he finds it.”

 

“Can you stay behind with Sam? Deliver the kid to his parents before you drive home?”

 

Nat shifts beside him, then makes her way over to James’ lifeless body. “Of course,” she says softly, before closing the corpse’s eyes. Anyone who thinks Natalia Romanov doesn’t have emotions is an idiot. 

 

“You know they’re just going to find more subjects,” Bucky says.

 

“We’re going to take down the whole organization in one fell swoop.”

 

“And the death and destruction they cause in the meantime?”

 

She looks up at him, eyes full of sorrow. “I’m not a utilitarian either, Barnes, but it’s the best we’ve got.”

 

He nods once, then turns from the room and silently makes his way to the exit.

  
  


***

  
  


The mood on the quinjet is somber once the team is aboard. Sam, still on comms before takeoff, tries his best to lighten the mood, complaining that he has to drive the car back the one time Steve and Bucky aren’t screwing each other’s brains out. But Bucky’s quiet, contemplative. Silence descends on the whole team despite the simplicity of the mission.

 

Steve comes to sit beside him once they’re in the air. It’ll only take fifteen minutes to get to the Tower, but he doesn’t want to leave Bucky alone when he’s feeling like this. Bucky swears Steve is like a barnacle sometimes, but for the most part, he doesn’t mind. Truth is, he could use the company right now.

 

“I killed ‘em,” he says, low so that only Steve’s enhanced senses can catch the words.

 

“I know you did. I don’t blame you.”

 

Bucky looks at Steve, looks  _ into _ him. He’s always afraid of Steve’s judgment when it comes to this, but Bucky’s finally coming to believe that Steve isn’t lying. He finally understands that just because Steve can’t stomach it himself, that doesn’t mean he disapproves. Some people might think that Captain America is a saint, but no man goes to war and comes back innocent. Even in the forties, they did what had to be done, each in their own way. Steve’s killed his fair share of men, sometimes brutally.

 

But Bucky doesn’t mind doing the dirty work. He never had.

 

“It wasn’t pretty.”

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

 

“Maybe. I dunno.”

 

Steve considers him for a moment. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s really on Bucky’s mind.

 

“And the guy they were torturing?”

 

“Put him out of his misery.”

 

“Was that necessary?” Steve asks. There’s no judgment in his tone, only curiosity.

 

“Trust me, Rogers. It was necessary.”

 

“You don’t think there’s a chance we could’ve saved him? Nat said that infection didn’t look too bad yet - “

 

“Can it,” Bucky hisses furiously. “I have a better idea than you what they’d done to him, alright? Odds were bad he’d survive it, and whatever time he had left would’ve been agony. Just let it go.”

 

Steve’s face pales, and Bucky knows that he’s imagining Bucky in that young man’s place. But that was nearly a lifetime ago. What’s the point in digging it up again? He’d done what needed doing, and that was that.

 

He feels like shit when Steve pulls out the  _ constipated-puppy _ face, the one that means he’s trying so hard not to feel any emotions, that he’s not sure what emotions are the right ones to even feel in a moment like this. Sadness, rage, determination - they’re all pieces of the puzzle that make up Steve, and sometimes Bucky thinks the serum amplified Steve’s emotions along with everything else. He’d always felt so much. Too much.

 

Bucky clings to him, wrapping his metal arm around Steve’s back, trying to modulate his scent, tamp down the melancholy in order to calm both himself and his alpha. Steve gives him a grateful look and pulls him in by the shoulder. 

 

“I’m here. I’m alive.”

 

“I know,” Steve says into his temple.

 

“Stop thinking about it.”

 

“Bucky, what they were doing - “

 

“I know, but we stopped it. We’re going to stop the entire program as soon as we get some more information and a gameplan. The best you can do now is make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

 

“You’re right. I just… they’re never going to stop this, are they? All the evil we fight, and for what? Just to open space so someone else can take over?”

 

“Would you ever stop fighting? Could you?”

 

Steve gives a mirthless laugh. “Shit, Buck. You know the answer to that.”

 

“Exactly. So just do the best you can. That’s all I’ve ever asked of you, and not once have you disappointed me.”

 

“I love you, you know that? More than I could ever say.”

 

“No shit, dumbass. ‘S why we fight like cats and dogs. Too much feeling.”

 

“No such thing,” Steve insists. “I wouldn’t have us any other way, no matter how much we fight.”

 

“Well, there are certain things we’re not fighting about anymore, right?” Bucky asks pointedly.

 

“That’s the plan, pal.”

 

“‘Kay,” he says, closing his eyes and leaning against Steve’s shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll find something new. We always do.”

 

“Shut up and go to sleep, Buck.”

 

“Yes, dear,” Bucky sighs, and is out like a light.

 

***

 

There’s no time for rest once they get back to the Tower. There’s barely time to shower before JARVIS has sifted through the data they found at A.I.M headquarters. Tony won’t even tell them what’s going on unless they show up in the common room. Theoretically, they need an official debrief anyway, but for fuck’s sake, Bucky would’ve liked to have had a goddamn night’s sleep first. Killing people and fighting in general seems to have that effect on him now that he’s de-serumed.

 

Once they’re settled on the couches in the communal living room, Bucky leaning tiredly against Steve’s shoulder, Tony starts the meeting, though there are only four of them present, Barton listening from the ceiling.

 

“Well, folks, it’d be nice to have a breather, but I’m afraid that’s not in the cards.”

 

“What’s going on?” Steve asks with a sigh.

 

“JARVIS, wanna give everyone the scoop?”

 

“Of course, Sir. I’ve found no information on Operation Stucky in the data Ms. Romanov forwarded to me, but there are several other activities that will require our attention very soon.”

 

“Potentially world-ending kind of activities?” Steve asks.

 

“Indeed. I have also discovered the base of operations for the leader of this particular cell.”

 

“Do we know how the cells work? Are they like Hydra, like Nat figured?”

 

“It would appear each A.I.M. cell operates mostly independent of others. They can only loosely be considered an organization. On one hand, that means they are less likely to have their fingers deep in governmental affairs the way Hydra did. On the other hand, however, we will likely have to chase down cells individually, and we have no way of gathering data on cells other than those we’re chasing.”

 

“So where is the leader of this particular cell located?” Steve asks.

 

“Austria, Captain Rogers. He appears to be a megalomaniac, holed up in a castle in the Alps.”

 

“... Hold up, go back a minute. Castle? Did you just - did he just say ‘castle?’” Tony asks nobody in particular, hands gesticulating wildly to make him look like a very confused bird. “JARVIS, my man, you said he was in Austria.”

 

“Yes, Sir. That is what I just said.” To Bucky’s highly-trained ears, JARVIS sounds a little exasperated, though he’s not sure if JARVIS is even capable of such an emotion.

 

“I thought you meant, like, a military bunker, or even some quaint little town in the middle of nowhere. You never mentioned a  _ castle _ .” 

 

“How do we get into this castle? Do we know?” Steve asks, ignoring Tony’s bewilderment. 

 

“Not yet, I’m afraid. I have no information on the layout.”

 

“It’s okay. Steve’s good at thinkin’ on his toes,” yawns Bucky. 

 

Steve absently runs fingers through Bucky’s hair and mutters, “Yeah, but it’s not like I enjoy it.”

 

Bucky makes a tired noise somewhere between bemused and fond. “Bullshit. The worse things look, the more excited you get, you goddamn adrenaline junkie.”

 

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but not before Tony says, “Yeah, no, I’m with Murder-boyfriend here. I’ve seen you do shit in a pinch that I wouldn’t even try in the suit.”

 

“And you wonder why I’m so tired,” Bucky says, doing his best to keep his eyes open. Steve’s fingers just feel  _ so damn good _ .

 

Steve straightens his back and clearly makes the decision not to argue. “Right. When do we head out?” he asks Tony.

 

“As soon as Romanov and Wilson get back. Rhodey and Banner are on this one, too. They’ve already been briefed and are getting ready. We have no idea what we’re gonna find.”

 

“Hill? Barton? … Where the hell is Barton? Wasn’t he getting food? How did I even miss him leaving?” 

 

A scoff floats down from the ceiling, along with a gaggle of dust bunnies that make Bucky pull away from Steve to avoid sneezing. He glares at the ceiling.

 

“Where do you think I am, Rogers?”

 

Steve gives a long-suffering sigh. “Do you have nests up there or something?”

 

“Um… duh?”

 

Steve decides not to argue that point, either. “Okay. I’d like to have a talk with Banner before we go, if that’s alright.”

 

“Of course,” Tony says, waving in the direction of the staff elevators. “In his suite, I believe.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Bucky reluctantly peels himself off the couch and follows his alpha. His brain feels fuzzy. God, he needs a nap.

 

“You can go to sleep, you know. It’ll take a few hours to get everything ready,” Steve tells him as they enter the elevator.

 

“Nah, let’s just go see Bruce.”

 

Steve gives him the side-eye. “Buck, if you need to sit this one out…”

 

_ Not this again. _ “It’s a three-hour flight to Austria. I’ll sleep on the jet.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says after taking a deep breath. Not arguing  _ this  _ one, either. 

 

***

 

JARVIS lets them know that Bruce is in his personal lab, which takes up an entire floor of the Tower. The lab itself appears to have been hit by a tornado, with papers strewn everywhere, machines beeping in the background, and, in the center of it all, a wild-eyed Bruce Banner, who looks more like Stark on a bender than himself. He’s waiting for the soldiers to arrive after JARVIS alerts him, sitting on a stool with bags under his eyes.

 

“Jesus, Banner. What the hell is going on in here? Are you okay?” Steve asks with more than a little concern.

 

Bruce runs a hand through his graying hair and sighs. “Yeah, I’m doing fine. Just tired.”

 

“Jesus,” Steve repeats. “It looks like you’re channeling Stark.”

 

“Maybe I am,” Bruce says with a shrug. “I hear it’s catching.”

 

“Is this why you haven’t been going along with us lately? Whatever,” Steve throws his arms wide as if to encompass _ all of this _ , “whatever you’ve got going on here?”

 

“Yes, in a way. Sorry,” Banner replies with a self-deprecating smile. “I know I’m supposed to be a part of the team, I’m just… dealing with some things.”

 

“You gonna be okay to come with us?” Bucky asks, trying to hide his own concern for the doctor.

 

“Yeah, because I think we’re gonna find answers to this problem.”

 

Steve and Bucky both know they haven’t a hope of understanding any of the technical stuff Banner and Stark go on about, but Bucky asks for an ‘ELI5’ anyway.

 

Steve puts a hand up to stop Banner from answering the question and side-eyes Bucky. “What the hell does that mean?”

 

“You know what memes are, right?”

 

“Uh, yes?”

 

“Okay, this is a meme.”

 

“I thought memes were pictures.”

 

“No,” Bruce cuts in. “Those are image macros. Like a kind of meme? But memes include sayings or other cultural oddities passed from one person to another. The internet speeds that along quickly.”

 

Bucky almost laughs at the expression on Steve’s big dumb face. 

 

For his part, Steve does a good job of skipping over his exasperation, having gotten used to doing so throughout the evening. “Okay, so what does it actually mean?”

 

“Means ‘explain like I’m five,’” Bucky helpfully tells him.

 

“Sounds reasonable. So… ELI5, I guess.” 

 

“Well,” Bruce says, standing up and making his way across to the them. He starts to pace in front of them. “I’m trying to wrap my head around this serum thing. Why the de-seruming process isn’t working properly. We’ve got it down pat on our end, the actual process. It’s working, right? So why does it revert back?”

 

“Um,” Bucky says confusedly. “This has been keeping you away from missions? Is it that big a deal to you?”

 

Bruce stops pacing and gives him a considering look, making Bucky feel like he’s under a microscope. The doctor’s gaze is even more intense than usual. 

 

_ There’s definitely something personal going on here. _

 

Bucky puts his hands up in a placating gesture and continues, “It’s not that I don’t understand wanting to get to the root of the problem and being frustrated when you can’t. And I appreciate your concern. But you don’t have to work this hard. I’m sure you and Stark will figure it out eventually.”

 

Chapped lips thin as Bruce looks away, almost as though he’s reluctant to continue the conversation. Eventually, he faces them squarely and breathes deep to ground himself. 

 

“It’s… personal,” he starts. “The reason I care so much, I mean. It’s not just the scientific puzzle aspect, though that’s certainly part of it.” He scratches the back of his head. “I think it’s driving Stark a little nuts, too. But that isn’t the main point.”

 

“Okay. So what is?” Steve asks softly.

 

“You know how I talk about the Other Guy? How he’s always there, how he’ll always be a part of me? Something I don’t want but have no choice in carrying with me?”

 

Steve nods, still not understanding, but Bucky’s starting to get the picture. Bruce understands why this is important to Bucky more than Steve ever could, because he wishes he could rid himself of his own demons.

 

“Well,” Bruce continues, “Bucky also carries an Other Guy. And if I can help him banish it, at least I’ve helped someone else. Even if it’s not me.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but Bucky can see the quiet despair in his eyes. 

 

Steve looks devastated by this revelation but manages to keep himself together and stay focused on the problem at hand. Always practical, his Steve. 

 

“Alright, well, do you have any theories?”

 

Bucky elbows his alpha. “Hypotheses, Steve. You mean hypotheses.”

 

Bruce fails to hide his chuckle as Steve rolls his eyes. “Well, my guess is that Hydra’s version of the serum messes with your DNA in some fashion we don’t understand. They wouldn’t exactly have been careful, since they wanted a weapon instead of a person. The DNA replenishes itself because of some gene combination we haven’t identified as a redundancy, in case it wore off or you were given drugs to reverse it. Especially if the serum formula was lost and you were the only super soldier they had. They were throwing all their eggs in your basket since you were the only one to survive Zola’s factory. But we have no data on de-seruming a super soldier, so I have no leads as to the identity of those genes, or what messing with those genes might inadvertently do.” 

 

Banner suddenly looks a thousand years old, and Bucky feels a surge of empathy burn through his chest. If this is hard for him, he can’t imagine what Banner must feel every day. Knowing that he has even less of a chance at finding a cure for his own ailment. 

 

“But you think this trip might tell us more?” Steve asks encouragingly. His face screams  _ hopeful puppy _ , the way a golden retriever pup might stare at a treat jar. 

 

“I know JARVIS didn’t find anything about what they were after when they captured the two of you, but this is just one cell, and if this guy runs all of it… there might be some genetic data I can analyze in addition to what I’ve got.”

 

“Haven’t they been trying to create super soldiers for ages now, Stevie?” Bucky asks. “What the hell could genetic data tell us that it hasn’t already? Our DNA has been analyzed time and time again.”

 

Steve shrugs. “Don’t know,” he says, “but I’m not a scientist. And it’s obvious they were studying the effects of heat on super soldiers. I can only guess they’re trying to build an army somehow, and that our status as alpha and omega have something to do with their plans. You did say they tried to breed you before.”

 

“Right,” Banner confirms. “We should get ready to go. Get this over with and hopefully find a piece to the puzzle in the meantime.”

 

“Bunch of puzzles to figure out here,” Steve says thoughtfully as they head to their suite from the lab for a quick breather. “Induced heat, weapons smuggling, this… Adaptoid creature. If this is what one cell is like, I can’t imagine what the rest of the organization is involved in.”

 

Bucky doesn’t even want to think about it. “Let me take that nap.”

 

Steve pulls him closer as they step into the elevator, kissing his temple and running his fingers through Bucky’s long hair. “Of course, love. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

 

Bucky doesn’t remember anything after that. God, he’s so  _ tired. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Bucky Barnes has never been a climber. His comfort with the activity had maxed out at climbing trees during the war. As the Asset, of course, he’d climbed countless buildings in pursuit of the perfect spot from which to shoot, which was always an objectively awful experience, not that he’d had a choice in the matter. 

 

But the worst climbs had been done in nature. Beautiful, deadly nature. There’d only been a couple of missions where he’d had to scale cliffs to find his mark, and he’d always performed flawlessly, but when he remembers them now, all he gets is a sinking feeling in his stomach. Nausea. Tingling feet. Dizziness. Not even full dissociation can pull him back from that brink. 

 

Yet here Bucky Barnes is, clinging desperately to a thin, rocky handhold hundreds of feet up in the air. The sounds of battle surround him and give him something to focus on other than mind-numbing fear, but he’s still gonna kill Steve when this is over. 

 

Reaching up with a shaky grip, Bucky uses his powerful legs to pull himself up another foot. 

 

“Tell me again why Stark couldn’t just fly us in and drop us on the roof?” he yells at Steve over the din.

 

“We need him to keep them occupied. Unless you want to be a target for a state-of-the-art weapons system backed by a forcefield!”

 

“Ugh,” he grits out. “Fuck you, Rogers.”

 

“You’ve got a harness and you’re securely anchored. You’re safe even if you let go.”

 

While this is true, it doesn’t exactly allay his fears. “Coulda used the road like normal fucking people,” he mutters low enough that Steve can’t hear him, but Steve still purses his lips at Bucky with his disappointed-puppy face. 

 

Unfortunately, the road is far too obvious an attack point, too easily spotted by the castle’s surveillance. Hulk provides the perfect distraction to draw out as much security as possible, but that leaves the non-flyers on their own for the majority of the climb. Bucky feels like he’s dying, limbs burning and lungs flayed, and for a brief moment gives thanks to the serum before remembering he doesn’t have serum anymore. 

 

_ So this is what Barton and Romanov feel like all the time. _

 

He makes it to the top of the steep rock face after what feels like hours, and gets his first glimpse of their target, a collection of towers surrounding a rectangular center. Moonlight bounces off the pale walls, giving the scene a ghostly glow, like one Bucky might see in a dream-sequence. He’ll have to wait to find out whether it’s from a good dream or a bad dream, but it feels like there’s a dead weight in his stomach, and not just from the climb. There’s something going on here, something deeply familiar and  _ wrong _ , that he can’t quite put his finger on.

 

Once Barton and Romanov meet up with the two super soldiers, they sneak through the sparse forest surrounding the castle’s rear side. The data they’d stolen from the North American headquarters had yielded a basic layout of the castle; there should be a cellar entrance near the left corner from their position. 

 

Stark and Wilson have perfect timing, because the forcefield surrounding the castle deactivates at their approach. 

 

“Field down, Cap. I estimate you’ve got thirty seconds to find your way in. We’ve definitely got the guy’s attention, and there’s no way he’s going down without a fight. Visual on Hulk says he’s holding his own, but no forward progress. Wilson and I are ready for whatever he throws at us. It’s up to you now.”

 

“Copy,” Steve replies. He’s wearing the  _ determined puppy _ face, otherwise known as his Captain America face - nostrils flaring, tight-lipped, stress wrinkles showing at his temples - the works. Bucky takes a second to marvel at the ferocity of his guy as Natalia breaks the code to the lock and shuts down the security panel. Hopefully, they can make it to the main security room, which is on the same level but still too far away for Bucky’s liking, before the main cameras catch them. 

 

If this mission had been like headquarters, with only Barton, Romanov, and him, they might’ve made it. But Steve is Steve, and he’s about as subtle as Tony. When they see a handful of guards around the corner, Steve throws the shield without even thinking, and brings both down in one fell swoop. 

 

Immediately, alarms start to ring out.

 

Natalia’’s face doesn’t move a centimeter, but she emits an odd, cold energy nonetheless. “Glad I saw that coming.”

 

Clint nods grimly next to Bucky, arrow cocked and ready to strike at the first sign of trouble. “Greatest tactical mind the world’s ever seen, and still no patience.”

 

“Hush,” Steve says in a calm voice. “They’d seen us anyway; one of them had called for backup.”

 

“Uh, no offense, Cap, but how could you tell from here? We’d barely even seen the guys before you threw the shield,” Barton says. 

 

“I don’t know, but they knew we were here. And you are aware I can hear better than you, right?”

 

Once again, it takes Bucky a moment to wonder why he hadn’t heard anything before he remembers about the serum. Right - it’s going to take him a while to get used to that. Privately, he acknowledges that it’s annoying as all hell, but he’s not about to share that information with Steve, lest he get pulled into an argument yet again.

 

“Time to split up,” Bucky says. “Romanov, Barton, you good?” 

 

“We’re good,” Clint confirms as they stride down the hall, continuing in the direction they were headed. They’d wanted all four of them to make it to the security console, to make this next part easier, but Plan A almost never goes right, especially when Steve is around. Bucky also has to admit, again privately, that he has shit luck. In fact, his luck pretty much ran out sometime around 1942. Steve would kill him for that thought, considering they found each other again, but it’s true, and Bucky doesn’t like lying to himself. 

 

In unspoken agreement, Bucky follows Steve down a side hall, giving one last glance to Barton and Romanov’s retreating forms. Despite that sinking feeling in his gut that hasn’t gone away since before the climb, Bucky feels comfortable at Steve’s six; the missions where they’re given separate targets or are sent out separately are some of the hardest for both of them. Watching Steve’s back has always been second nature, alpha or no.

 

The side halls are dimly lit and feel considerably more claustrophobic; the lamps are ancient and worn, not fluorescent like the main hall. Steve casts a larger-than-life shadow behind himself, one that blends in with Bucky’s own. Which is a little on the nose as far as metaphors go, in Bucky’s opinion. 

 

He lets Steve’s eidetic memory guide them through halls that remain eerily quiet. Steve’s shield never lowers, not even an inch, as he leads them deeper and deeper into the castle proper. It’s odd how still and dull the air is, how there doesn’t appear to be anything here, how it seems like the last time someone walked these halls was when they were newly built, young. Bucky fancies he can hear the echoes of long-forgotten footsteps, perhaps soldiers who guarded the castle and fought for its master, perhaps the children of servants who cooked and cleaned and did all the behind-the-scenes work that kept the castle running.

 

Their guesses as to the nature of this section of the castle had been on the nose, apparently; around the corner is a small kitchen surrounded by servant’s quarters, a little microcosm of a peasant’s life. They make their way through it, listening for the all-clear from their teammates before moving back into the main halls. 

 

“Main security’s down,” Nat confirms in a quiet tone, followed by a reproachful, “Now if you can use your inside voice and lay off the shield, we might get somewhere.”

 

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but one look at Bucky’s raised eyebrows causes him to shut it and blow out an annoyed breath instead. Natalia makes a pleased hum into the comm but otherwise remains silent. 

 

The mission is mostly quiet as the two of them find their way back to their teammates. They get occasional updates from Sam and Tony, who are keeping the outer defenses occupied while the infiltration team makes their way toward the center of the castle. 

 

It’s not until the two of them are just around the corner from Natalia and Barton that Bucky recognizes that  _ wrong _ feeling from earlier. It’s the same feeling he’d gotten around Stephen Strange when they’d met him, and the same one he’d felt a few years back just before the Soldier had been punished for failing to meet his handlers at a rendezvous point. 

 

Goosebumps rising, Bucky turns to Steve, a warning on his lips, but before he can even get out a breath, the floor is opening underneath him.

 

And just like that, Bucky is floating in the void. 

 

***

 

Steve Rogers is doing everything he can not to panic, not to yell and give away their location. He’s the leader of this team, the best tactical mind of an entire century, one of the strongest men alive… but when it comes to his omega, all of that melts like so much butter. Fear and anxiety close in, rushing to the forefront, such that when he rounds the corner to find Nat and Clint, their eyes are wide and faces grim. All it took was Steve’s breathing pattern over the comm unit to know something had gone wrong.

 

Natasha grips his hand tightly as Barton urgently whispers for Bucky into the comm. Somehow, Steve knows they’ll never reach him. 

 

“What happened?” Nat asks him in a hushed voice as she pushes him back into the hallway where Bucky had disappeared.

 

“I don’t know,” Steve gets out, focusing on his breath. He can’t help Bucky if he’s unable to function. “One minute he was here, and the next - “

 

“Can you show me where?”

 

He nods, unable to trust his voice, and points to the tile where the ground had opened up and swallowed Bucky. A search of the area will yield nothing useful, though Steve hangs back and watches them. Maybe they’ll catch something he hadn’t seen.

 

Natasha’s face is cold, hard, a mask to hide her worry. Barton informs the team of the situation and then stands there, staring at his teammates and chewing his lower lip, a habit likely picked up from Steve. 

 

“If we find this dude, he’ll lead us to Bucky,” Clint reasons. “Let’s go finish this.”

 

Steve forces all the determination and grit that lives in him to the surface. Natasha can’t help but wrinkle her nose beside him - he must smell like a furnace, acrid and overwhelming.

 

“You’re right. Let’s make this sonofabitch pay.”

 

They head toward the center of the building, navigating twists and turns based on the map in Steve’s head, and find a service stairwell. The echoes of their footsteps are too hard, even moving as quietly as spies possibly can, making Steve wince, but the team meets no resistance along the way.  

 

They soon discover why, as an array of guards with AR-15s surrounds them the instant they exit the stairwell. Steve raises his hands along with the others as one of the goons takes his pistol and shield, and just like that, the three of them are disarmed and on the way to see the boss.

 

“Thought you said you’d disabled security,” he says under his breath.

 

“I did. But they got Bucky, so clearly they know something we don’t,” Nat replies, seeming unperturbed. Steve wishes he could look that calm under pressure. 

 

“I guess we’re about to find out.” 

 

The A.I.M. soldiers lead them into a large central chamber that looks to be a ballroom. Once upon a time, it had probably been decorated with vibrant greens and blues, full of dancing, drinking, and socializing, but now the only colors adorning it are the black, white, and red spiral tiles that make up the floor. At the far end is a raised dais, a plain black platform so incongruous with their surroundings as to be absurd, on par with the nightmare Steve feels like he’s been wading through. On the platform is a desk with several monitors showing either lines of data, cameras, or static, probably from the security Nat was able to break through. The high ceiling has been replaced with skylights, giving the room a strangely modern feel. Sam might call it a ‘hipster castle.’

 

In front of it all sits a man with burn scars all over a ruined face, with a rictus as wide as any lunatic’s as he watches the prisoners march toward him. Hatred burns through Steve when he recognizes the man, even as he’s forced to his knees by the butt of a gun to the back of his head. 

 

“Captain,” Brock Rumlow says with a grin. “So nice to see you again.”

 

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve bites out. 

 

“Eager, I see. Always so eager. Who am I to keep a man from his own bondmate, though? Why don’t you take a look here, Cap, and see for yourself?”

 

With glee, Rumlow turns around and presses a code into the console, bringing up the security feed for a section of the castle Nat either hadn’t been aware of or had been unable to break into. And on the screen is Steve’s worst nightmare. 

  
  


***

 

At first, there’s only darkness. Even Bucky’s enhanced eyes had never been able to see through the pitch. He’s not oriented to any direction, barely able to even find his footing. He’s unable to hear anything, either, not even his own footfalls. In another time or place, sensory deprivation might be pleasant, or even healing. It had been suggested to him by one of the many therapists SHIELD had forced him to see. But this bodes ill for him, and he braces for whatever comes next. 

 

Sure enough, Bucky’s senses gradually become overwhelmed. At first, it’s subtle; a scrape in the darkness here, a dim, far-off light there, things that barely register in his conscious mind before they’re gone. Eventually, the hallucinations become a cacophony of impressions, little sensory inputs that make no sense when jumbled together and override his sense of reality.

 

He feels as though he’s been dosed, the way his heats have been coming along, forced by drugs that have to work their way free of his system. But this is all in his mind, and even as Bucky feels his sanity start to slip away, down through his fingers and toes like fine grains of sand, he berates himself for being so weak as to let this beat him. He’s no longer the Winter Soldier, no longer beholden to Hydra’s control, so why can’t he find his way out of this? 

 

Bucky knows he’s stumbling blindly in the darkness, and there’s no way out. Nothing to do but hope that Steve and the others can find a way to get him out of this mess, and hold on if he can.

  
  


***

 

Steve stares in horror as his omega collapses to the ground, rocking back and forth with his head between his knees and covering his ears with his hands. The right one, his flesh hand, shakes like he’s got palsy. 

 

“What did you do to him?” Steve asks, trying to sound fierce and protective as an alpha should but only managing terrified. 

 

“Oh, that? It’s no big deal. We used to do it to him all the time, if he ran away or failed to operate within specific parameters. One of Pierce’s favorite punishments, watchin’ him like this. An Asset worth so much, so talented, reduced to a pile of pure terror… ain’t nothin’ quite like it, you know?”

 

“Cut the crap, Rumlow,” Barton breaks in. “What’s the point of all this? Why even join these people? Wasn’t one near-death experience enough for you to get out of the business?”

 

“Could ask you the same question, Hawkeye.” Rumlow’s shrewd eyes stare meanly at Clint, who is on his knees on the other side of Natasha. “Why wasn’t Loki enough for you to get out of the business?”

 

“‘Cause I’m fighting on the right side, genius.”

 

“Right, right,” Brock says reasonably. “I think we all believe that, don’t we?”

 

“Shouldn’t you have swallowed cyanide when your empire fell, asshole? Not very good at following orders, huh?”

 

“I was never interested in following orders. Let’s just say I learned that from the great Captain over here.” Those dark eyes swing back in Steve’s direction. “This way, I get to do what _ I _ think is right with the world. No one holdin’ me back. Surely Cap understands that, right?” 

 

“Go to hell,” Steve grits out, unable to tear his eyes away from Bucky. 

 

Natasha, who seems strangely bored by the whole ordeal, sighs. “You might as well give us your villain speech now. Why bother with any of this? Why kidnap Steve and force Barnes into heat?”

 

“Don’t you get it yet, sweetheart? We’re gonna create more of ‘em.” Rumlow stands and starts pacing along the platform, hands clasped behind his back like he’s lecturing. “Truth is, we got lucky. Me and a bunch of his old handlers,” he nods at the screen, “we looked for information on Barnes while trying to track him down after the fiasco at the Triskelion. Found a load of notes written by one Abraham Erskine. Name sound familiar, Cap?”

 

Steve’s head whips in Rumlow’s direction. “His notes were destroyed ages ago. I was there.”

 

“Sure, his notes for the serum formula were. You’re right about that. But there were other things he left behind, and it turns out our old pal Peggy Carter kept some of it. We just paid her a nice little visit.”

 

Steve is off his feet before he even realizes it, lunging in Rumlow’s direction, but several guards aim their rifles at his head, and he manages to back down before he gets himself killed. 

 

“I swear if you hurt one hair on her head - “

 

“Relax, Rogers,” Rumlow says, motioning to the guards to force him back to his knees. “I didn’t hurt her. What would be the point anyway? She’s at death’s door as it is, and her brain’s leakin’ out her ears. She knew me from SHIELD, remembered seein’ my face once. All I had to do was ask.”

 

Somehow, Steve doesn’t think it was that easy.

 

“Anyway, we know how to make more of ‘em.”

 

“Then why bother forcing Barnes into heat? Was that just another sadistic game for you to enjoy?” Nat asks, genuinely curious.

 

“Science takes time, sweetheart.” Rumlow stops his pacing and sits at the edge of the platform, feet dangling and knocking together. “We needed some data points, along with some of the good Captain’s swimmers.”

 

“So you’re breeding an army? Isn’t that a little inefficient?”

 

“Not exactly.” Rumlow smirks. “But a good scientist doesn’t share his secrets. Got you guys here now, anyway. You’ll make an excellent addition to my army, Rogers.”

 

Steve tries to glare at Rumlow, but his eyes are repeatedly drawn to the furthermost screen on the right side of the stage. Bucky’s still down there somewhere, in the castle, underground maybe, or a holding cell, slowly going mad. 

 

Rumlow turns and mumbles into his earpiece just as Tony’s voice comes over the team’s comms. “Sam and I are in. JARVIS disabled the rest of the castle’s security. You should still be able to see Barnes on the display, but he’s on a loop. I’ve got him, Cap. We’re coming to you. Hang tight.”

 

Nat smiles sharklike at Brock when he turns back to them, grin somewhat lessened by whatever news he’d just gotten. “Stark a little too much for you?”

 

“I ain’t worried about him,” Rumlow says, full of false bravado. “He can’t crack what the great Natalia Romanova can’t.” 

 

“But you don’t know where he is, do you?” she presses. 

 

“Security’s gonna find him and bring him here any minute. As soon as your little farce of a team is disabled, we’re gonna get this show on the road.” 

 

Steve doesn’t answer. He just stares at the loop of footage behind Brock, praying for Tony to hurry up.

  
  


***

 

The first thing Bucky becomes aware of is Stark kneeling beside him in the Iron Man suit. The red-and-gold chrome plating fills his vision, knocks the insubstantial wisps of shade aside as long as he focuses on it. Between that and Tony’s soothing voice, reality slowly starts coming into focus. When the ringing in his ears finally stops, he looks at Tony’s face plate and nods to show he’s back in control. 

 

“Did they do this to you a lot?” Tony asks as he pulls Bucky up by the hand. 

 

Bucky, shaky and weak but able to hold his own, nods. “Few times, from what I can remember.”

 

“Drugs?”

 

“Magic.”

 

Tony curses and mutters under his breath. He and Strange had been wary of each other from the first time they’d met, the scientist and the magician existing on opposite sides of the same teleological coin. He hates that magic exists, and is not shy about voicing his opinion on the matter, though he has developed grudging respect for Stephen Strange.

 

“It’s a good thing I can break the spell just being with you, then,” Tony says grimly. “We’ve gotta go.”

 

“Where to?” 

 

“They’ve got Steve, Nat, and Rain Man. Sam’s on his way up the outside of the building to find a way in. They’ve got the only entrances to the ballroom on lockdown.”

 

“How are we gonna get in, then?”

 

“I’ve got a plan.” 

 

Bucky rolls his eyes but nods tiredly when Tony explains it. It’s simple enough and they’ll never see it coming, not with Stark’s new cloaking technology. He grabs onto the suit and hangs on for dear life, hoping this will be the last time he has to do this. 

  
  


***

 

Steve fidgets as he waits for Tony to arrive. Rumlow’s goons crack jokes behind Steve and his teammates, but he’s no longer too worried that these idiots will harm Bucky. Rumlow may be a man to be reckoned with, but his mercs must be in it for the money and not out of loyalty to him. Half their jokes are about the battle scars Rumlow had earned working for Hydra. 

 

Suddenly, Rumlow stands up and presses a finger to his earpiece, asking his contact to repeat whatever they’d said. Then he makes eye contact with Steve and smirks, throwing his hands out wide in a gesture Steve interprets as magnanimous. 

 

“Your friends are on their way here. The pretty one, what’s his name… Wilson? And Tony Stark himself. Seems like he’s not too capable, after all.”

 

Steve swallows and glances over at Natasha. Her only tell is a brief tightening of her lips, but it’s enough that Steve knows she’s concerned. This is no longer a game if what Rumlow says is true, and given that they haven’t heard any radio chatter from their team members, it very well might be. 

 

The next few minutes are some of the longest of Steve’s life. He desperately wishes he could speak into the comm, ask for an update from Tony and Sam, even if it meant finding out that they’d been discovered and were indeed on the way to the ballroom with guns pointed at their heads. 

 

It happens fast. Tony barely has time to say, “Party’s on the way, folks!” before he drops in through the roof, carrying Bucky with him, Sam at his heels. Glass shards rain down on everyone. Steve flinches and ducks his head, but keeps a close eye on Bucky as Tony drops him from a good eight feet above the floor. 

 

He winces in empathy as Bucky’s ankle twists, unable to take his eyes off his omega even as chaos erupts. Nat and Clint twist around when their guards are off-balance, quickly disarming them and retrieving their own weapons. Steve’s guard is taken out by Tony’s repulsor fire. Within seconds, all of Rumlow’s mercs are on their knees, weapons trained on them. Sam has his guns out and aimed at Brock. And Bucky… 

 

Bucky’s slowly prowling toward his former handler, grace and unimaginable strength in his steps even as he walks through the pain of a twisted, possibly broken, ankle.

 

Rumlow glares at his mercs, backing up against the platform as his death approaches. “You assholes said he was _ in  _ the castle!”

 

“He was! We’ve been watching outside the whole time! Had the tower guards checking in with us ‘n everything,” the one that had been guarding Steve says.

 

“Obviously not watching closely enough, huh, boys?” Nat asks sweetly, casually staring down at a neatly manicured hand as the other keeps her pistol locked on the goon.

 

_ “Fuck,” _ Rumlow spits. “How’d you even get past the lower defenses?”

 

“That? That was child’s play,” Tony replies. “Maybe next time, we can fight some actual grownups.”

 

Rumlow clearly wants to continue swearing at Stark, but Bucky’s nearly on top of him now, and Steve can smell his terror. He’s ashamed to admit it, but he’s going to enjoy watching Bucky destroy the man after all he’d done to Bucky, both now and as the Winter Soldier’s handler.

 

“Hey, pal,” Bucky says as he stands directly in front of Brock. “How’s it hangin’?”

 

“Burnt and impotent, if you must know,” Rumlow says angrily. “Thanks to you and your precious Captain.”

 

Bucky grunts. He smells like clean, wet earth - satisfaction. “Hardly my fault you chose that life, now is it?”

 

“Fuck you. Useless piece of trash. Shoulda thrown your ass in the Potomac after the bridge. Pierce shoulda known better.”

 

“Pierce should’ve done a lot of things differently,” Bucky acknowledges. “But he fucked with the wrong bonded pair. You did, too.”

 

“So kill me, if you’re gonna do it,” Rumlow snarls. “I ain’t givin’ up and trailin’ after you with my dick between my legs.”

 

“Never expected you to, pal,” Bucky says offhandedly. 

 

The room is preternaturally quiet, everybody waiting to see what Bucky Barnes will do to someone who’d caused him so much pain and grief. Most of them probably expect him to draw it out, torture Brock Rumlow right here in front of them. Steve can see the tension in the lines around Sam’s eyes, the grim set to Natasha’s lips. They’ll bear witness, though, if need be.

 

But Steve knows Bucky better than anyone, and he can tell just by the omega’s body language that he’s ready for this to be over, despite what Rumlow represents - the opportunity to exact revenge on a higher-level handler. 

 

“Say goodnight, Brock,” Bucky says simply, and then reaches out to snap his neck in one fluid movement. Rumlow is dead before he hits the ground. 

  
  


***

 

They convene at the jet, meeting Rhodey and Banner. Clint takes the pilot’s seat while Nat sits next to him. The mood is less celebratory than Steve would like; Bucky seems somber as he limps along to his seat, and they all take their cues from him.

 

Sam tries to lighten the mood. “I can’t believe you thought they had us.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me he was lying?” Steve asks. “You could’ve warned the team, you know.”

 

“Because you can’t act worth shit.”

 

Clint stifles a giggle. 

 

“I needed to act?” 

 

“Rumlow had to believe your reaction. You were worried, and it showed,” Sam explains, as though it were that simple. 

 

“Right. Yeah, a warning next time would be nice.”

 

Banner clears his throat as he walks from behind the curtain at the back of the jet. He’s dressed in a simple tee shirt and jogging pants, looking out of place among the assembled superheroes in their combat gear. “What’d we find?”

 

Steve turns toward Bruce, still standing in the middle of the jet as Clint prepares them for takeoff. “Rumlow got hold of some of Erskine’s notes. He was trying to create more of us.”

 

“JARVIS is analyzing the data we dug out of Rumlow’s computer. Lots of scans of handwritten notes he has to read through,” Tony adds. He frowns at Steve. “Why don’t you go get some rest?”

 

“I need to know - “

 

“Steve,” Bucky says in a tired voice. “It’s over. I just want to go home. Let’s just go home, okay?”

 

Steve turns to look at Bucky and finally recognizes just how tired his omega is. His scent is like burnt toast, a little rough around the edges but warm in the middle. How can Steve explain to Bucky that he  _ is _ home? 

 

The majority of the ride back to New York is quiet. Clint hums as he scans the skies, Nat reads a book on her Kindle, and Sam listens to a podcast with his earbuds in. Banner sleeps, Rhodey and Tony talk tech under their breaths, and Steve and Bucky hold onto each other like it’s been years since they were last together.

 

But about twenty minutes out of Manhattan, Tony Stark suddenly laughs so long and loud the rest of the team become concerned he’s going to make himself sick. Repeated questioning about what’s so funny only makes him laugh harder. His face is red and he’s still wheezing when he’s finally able to talk once more, asking JARVIS if he’d be kind enough to announce his findings to the rest of the Avengers. 

 

JARVIS complies, sounding somewhat confused. “Of course, Sir. The main finding from my research into Dr. Erskine’s notes is that he was concerned someone could use Captain Rogers’ semen to create another super soldier. That he, in effect, could be raped.”

 

“We’ve been over this, though,” Bruce says tiredly. “Steve couldn’t get another omega pregnant if he tried.”

 

“That is not quite what he was concerned about, Dr. Banner. There is no doubt that any child produced by Captain Rogers with his bonded omega would indeed be genetically enhanced, but Erskine thought it possible that his bonded omega would also become a super soldier. If one were to successfully break that bond and repeat the process, there could hypothetically be an entire army of them just from Captain Rogers alone.”

 

“That’s interesting, and it explains a lot,” Banner says with confusion, “but that doesn’t explain why in the hell Tony’s _ still  _ giggling.”

 

“I believe that Sir finds humor in the fact that the serum acts as an STD, as we’ve recently seen with Sergeant Barnes and the de-seruming process.”

 

Stark bursts into delighted laughter once more, Clint and Sam joining in. Steve watches Bucky as the penny drops, seeing first confusion, then concern, then clarity as Bucky finally realizes that the serum was _ not  _ a gift from Hydra, after all. 

 

They share a secret smile as Steve’s fears for the future fall by the wayside. Bucky’s going to be fine. He’ll still be mortal - they both will be - but the serum will once more protect his omega the same way it protects him. He won’t have to worry as much. And, most importantly, Bucky won’t die of old age, at least not unless Steve does, too. They can be together for a long, long time.

 

***

 

The sense of peace that had befallen the team after JARVIS’ unexpected announcement follows Bucky and Steve all the way to their Tower suite. The long elevator ride is spent in silence, Steve running a thumb along the knuckles of Bucky’s flesh hand. He watches himself do it, while Bucky watches him. 

 

Steve keeps hold of his hand, leading him down the hall and to their door, through the living room, dining room, and master bedroom, only stopping once he gets to the ensuite. There, he pulls Bucky forward, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly. They hold each other like that for a while, happy to just exist. Finally, Steve backs away and starts the shower, removing both his and Bucky’s clothes. They’d taken a quick shower downstairs, just before the debrief, but this is different. 

 

Bucky lets Steve worship him, starting from his toes and slowly working his way up. Steve kisses every inch of revealed skin before lathering up the soap and massaging sore muscles. By the time he makes it to Bucky’s cock, they’re both aroused, though Steve doesn’t stop his ministrations. Instead, he continues working his way up to Bucky’s face, which he takes in his hands and kisses until neither of them can breathe. 

 

He pulls back and whispers against Bucky’s lips. “Want me to give you an STD?”

 

Normally, Bucky would die laughing at such a line. Given the mood, though, he merely smiles and nods, allowing his alpha to take the lead once more. In a few more seconds, Steve’s mouth is wrapped around Bucky’s cock, slowly and sensually taking him apart piece by piece. 

 

Steve finishes him off and wraps him in a towel, then lovingly brushes the tangles from his clean hair. He takes Bucky to bed and starts the process again, driving his omega wild with his mouth until Bucky’s begging to be filled. Bucky spreads his legs willingly as Steve kneels between them, pushing into that big body like it’s made to take him. 

 

It’s the first time in their life together they’ve made love. It’s always been rushed, either by necessity or passion, sometimes both, but this feels different. Bucky is reminded of the night Steve had bonded him, rocking slim hips gently against his ass, driving Bucky out of his mind with the need to be taken by more than just his cock. Steve had finally stopped teasing and started really thrusting, at the same time as he’d sunk his teeth into the juncture of Bucky’s neck and shoulder until his saliva met Bucky’s blood. They’d both screamed as the bonding had taken hold, forever intertwining their lives together.

 

This feels like that in a way. Like a momentous occasion, a reinforcement of what they mean to each other, what they’ve  _ always _ meant to each other. As Steve’s hips speed up, unable to hold off his orgasm any longer, Bucky is struck by the thought that every time they’re together, it strengthens their bond. Steve is and has always been the only person on Earth that could change Bucky’s very DNA. He belongs, and has always belonged, solely to Steve Rogers, that stupid little punk from Brooklyn he fell in love with a lifetime ago. 

 

He comes with Steve’s name on his lips, a breathy cry that finishes washing away the stain of Hydra’s serpentine fingers. Steve is unbelievably sweet and gentle with him, holding him tightly against his chest like he’ll never let go.

 

And in all the ways that matter, he won’t. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the end, folks! Thanks for sticking with me throughout this story. I like how it ended up more than I thought I would. I feel so lucky to have gotten a chance to work with frostbitebakery as my artist, because with all the shit going on in my life, it might never have been finished without her cheerleading. Not to mention her art is fucking gorgeous. 
> 
> The last little section is unbeta'ed, so any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos and comments. Let me know how you liked it! And a huge thanks to the Cap Big Bang crew for throwing it together.


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